


Love Can Conquer Anything, Right?

by lilac_red



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Relationship(s), Sibling Love, Sibling incest?, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:12:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8750380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilac_red/pseuds/lilac_red
Summary: Matthew Williams and Isabella Cortez are Married. They don't have children, no, instead they raised and cared for Matthew's brother, Alfred F. Jones, and Isabella's adopted son, Arthur J. Kirkland, as if they were their own children. After years of being a well knit and loved family, the couple as well as the children start to realize changes going on around them. Changes that have always been there but are now more prominent and visible since the children are far older and wiser. Arthur is an intellectual prodigy, senior president, mature (to an extent), and he will be heading off to college soon. He may baby Alfred too much though.Alfred is the jockey, popular, and friendly boy-next-door. He just so happens to always want to be beside Arthur.Matthew is the lovable father like figure while Isabella is the all around mom. Of course these two like parents will worry about their children. But, should they be this worried about them?!





	1. This is only the beginning, right?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I haven't been updating any of the stories you may or may not be waiting for me to continue! But in the meanwhile, enjoy this one that may be unfinished but is a lot longer!

"Mum, is Dad in a better place?" The small voice of a boy cracked the silence that once filled the solemn area. His voice was young, accented by the native tongue of the British. He was fairly small stature, skinny, with a muss of sun colored hair that highlighted the ever so beautiful pair of green eyes he had. His father once told him that his appearance reminded him of a sunlit field; his hair being the sun and his eyes being the field. The most prominent, and his mother's favorite, feature about the boy was his slightly bigger brows; she just loved to tease him about it! She would always smile and laugh when it came to them! It wasn't like she had a fetish, no, she just loved seeing her son look so flustered and showing so many emotions on his face.

However, there was no teasing from his mother today or any in the past few days, to be exact. Her joyous laugh and gleaming smile were kept away for now, locked, in a small box where they will be sleeping until the other emotions settle their matters on their own, his mother had said. In a fight where the winner would change every time.

The little boy thought it was true, since now, his mother now was kneeling on the grass, despite the dampness of the prior days shower, her colorful skirts muddied . Her hair was less curly but her posture was as straight as ever. The hand beside her was clenched tightly but despite her body language, her face was straight, unsmiling but not crying. The winner did change every time.

The boy's mother looked to her side and up to where he stood, still clutching the beautiful rose he would offer to his father's tomb, a worried expression plastered on his face. The woman very faintly smiled at her son and extended both unclenched hands to him," Ven aqui, come here,"

The boy walked into the warm embrace of his mother and pulled back to look at her. Slightly red eyes, shiny tan skins, and long curly hair sticking to her face; she still looked like the most beautiful mum ever in his eyes," Si, he is somewhere better, but he won't be completely happy until he sees us happy... It's alright to cry, Arthur. You're a big boy, I know, but you don't need to keep it inside..." She smiled sadly. He hadn't noticed he had been crying, not until his mother gently wiped his tears away with a slender finger from his face.

Little Arthur just nodded in order to not upset his mum further,"... Can I give him my flower now?..." His head was down and he still clutched the rose in both hands. His mother moved to give him room as he delicately placed the flower on the engraved stone on the ground.

His mother stood up and Placed both hands on his thin shoulders,"Querido," she finally said,"Athur and I are heading to America. Your family wanted to expand their company there so I took up the offer to go." She smiled sheepishly. Arthur felt her grip tighten on his shoulders,"I don't know when we'll be able to come back," she whispered," but I want you know that I'll try to be happy! And I know I will because Arthur's here with me!" She squeezed his shoulder," Just know.... That we aren't abandoning you... We'll always love you.... I love you... Hasta luego... Te amo... Kiku..."

Both figures walked away from the stone. Engraved on the stone was "Kiku Honda."

~

"Alfred, come back here! Alfred!" A young stressed male yelled as he chased the little pudgy boy known as 'Alfred' around the house.

"No!" The pudgy boy pouted," You'll going to swend me to that cweepy boy's house agin!" He complained as he hid behind the sofa.

"Alfred it's not nice to call people creepy!" The young man tried to lecture his brother whilst trying to find him as well," Plus he'll be someone you can play Heroes with!" He tried to coax the little boy to speak so he could locate where in the living room he was hiding.

"He always wants to pway villains though!" Alfred retorted. His mistake however, because the young man found him and trapped him in his arms,"Noooo!" He struggled.

"God! For a four-year-old you sure are strong!" The young man said through clenched teeth as he sat with Alfred on the sofa. Alfred still trapped securely in his arms,"There, now Alf- Owch! Fu- Alfred don't bite me!"

Alfred chomped on his hands. He kept at it for a while until he realized the young man wasn't going to let go," Hic... Mattie's a.... Hic hic... Stwupid hwead!" Alfred cried. Tears rolling off his plump cheeks and onto the bitten hands.

Mattie cradled the young boy and hugged him close,"There, there, Alfred. You want to be a hero, right? Heroes don't cry, they protect people who cry. So you can't cry," Mattie tried to calm down the boy.

It worked, because the boy was only sniffling now. His light blue eyes, puffy and wet by the reminisces of tears along his cheeks but other than that, he had stopped,".....Will I be a hero, Mattie?" He tilted his head to the side and his awkward strand of sandy blonde hair followed in the same movement.

Mattie smiled knowingly and lovingly at his younger brother. His face resembling that of their father but his eyes being the unmistakable trait of their mother. He, himself also resembled his father, face and eyes to boot, but strawberry blonde hair and embarrassing curl belonging to his mother. It's been almost 2 years,"You sure will! Now lets go before your big brother wrinkles his suit more and gets fired!" Mattie says standing up from the sofa and heading towards the door with Alfred's duffle bag in hand.

"But then you could play with me more!" Alfred protested.

~

"So you're saying you want to buy our company?" A older man spoke with unease at the offer he'd just been offered.

"To put it bluntly, yes," Isabella's voice was sharp and crisp as her suit. Her hair pulled up into a braided bun and her face presentable for any situation,"You've been doing fine so far, but your competitors have been growing, becoming more ruthless and even taking international deals for less costly labor. But we at Wa-Ho publishing and printing want to expand our business as well as the workers knowledge for a better place and future this company could hold."

"I'm not sure if we should." Another man spoke,"after all the workers here are like family and if we up and sell and they all those their jobs? With this economy too? I don't think-"

"Not to worry gentleman," Isabella assured them," we have agreed for a contract with you that lasts up to five years at least to assure that working with us is no risk. We will take full responsibility for liability and still give you a generous share of 45% of all profit."

This continued on and on until both men called their loyal publisher Matthew Williams in to show the business woman around said company.

"Well, at least I'm close to making a deal." She mumbled.

"Hmm?" Matthew asked thinking it was something directed at himself.

"Oh... Um... I was just wondering where I could get hot chocolate here," she smiled sheepishly.

"Oh, I can show you," he offered.

"Really? Thank you! Mr.... I'm sorry I don't think I asked for your name. Oh! I don't think I told you mine either! My name is Isabella Honda-Cortez," she smiled and held out her hand in greeting.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Matthew Williams." He smiled and shook it,"Um... Do you like pancakes?"

~

"I do." She said as she kissed her newly wedded husband. Alfred was the ring bearer, in a small white tux, while Arthur to his great dismay was the flower girl, but at least his mum was happy with it.

Alfred and Arthur stood side by side as they watched two important people in their lives smile so genuinely for the first time in years.

~

"Mmm..." Alfred hummed as he cuddled closer to the radiating heat next to him. He felt so comfortable, so right, where he was that he didn't want to get up and ready for another day.

Arthur's eye flitted opened as the morning sun peeked at him through his curtains. His hands feeling very soft material under his fingers that he couldn't help but play with it. His senses becoming more awakened by each passing second, he found that what he was playing with was hair that belonged to a larger male in the room with him. The larger male was cuddled close to Arthur's chest to hear his rhythmic heart beat.

Sighing, Arthur was aware that Alfred had snuck into his bed... Again. However, instead of feeling annoyed he felt happy. Happy that his little brother was still his little brother, despite him being a teenager and growing obviously taller than him in just a few short years.

He took his hand and gently pinched Alfred's nose, knowing fully well that he was awake," Good morning, Alfred. You sneaky little twit." He smiled.

Alfred couldn't help but grin," Good morning, Arthur!" He boomed.

Just - same-old-same-old regular day for two brothers, right?

 


	2. Nothing to worry about, right?

As the two young boys were upstairs getting ready, the spouses of the house were already up and sitting side by side in the dinning room table.

Having just finished their breakfast, Matthew with his unusually large stack of food and Isabella not so far behind, calmly sipping their drinks, coffee or hot chocolate, to satisfy themselves.

It was safe to say, that his enormous appetite was one of the things that Matthew was not proud of. It had kept him from doing a lot of "hanging out" with friends in the past or even dating because someone would always comment something about the big stack of food he consumed. Thankfully though, Isabella didn't seem to mind, no, like the day they first met where Matthew took her to the cafe to eat pancakes; he only ordered four while Isabella ordered eight. He had gawked at the amount she ordered, where as she responded,"I'm a growing girl," with a small shrug. She also assured him she would pay for her own portion but then commented if the stack he ordered would be enough for him.

That same day, Isabella had shared with him her great dislike of the drink known as coffee. How bitter and potent the scent was as well as one of the leading problems of tooth decay. She shivered and said she preferred to drink hot chocolate or on occasions tea to keep through the day. However, after progressing in her relationship with the Canadian man, she had to like the bitter drink at least slightly, due to his mouth tasting like coffee whenever they would kiss. Mixed with her chocolate flavor was more... Likeable.

Isabella gave an involuntary sigh,"What's wrong?" Matthew asked while putting his hand on top of hers and squeezing it. Worry, plastered on his face that his wife was stressed by work again. After a decade, he had made it to becoming a best selling author after working in editing at the company where he first met Isabella. They had more than enough income from his profession, and he had urged his wife to leave her job because of it. However, she didn't want to, not yet at least. She still had something to take care of, that's what Isabella told him.

She returned the gesture as she smiled at her worry-wart of a husband," Honestly... I'm not quite sure... Yo... I've just been worried about the boys a lot lately... I suppose..." Her voice dropping in volume with every unfinished phrase.

"Did something happen at school?" The Canadian asked while praying to the gods that Alfred didn't break anything or anyone.

"No, nothing like that," Isabella answered as she suppressed a laugh at her husband's obvious thoughts," It's just... I guess... Mother's intuition?"

Before Matthew could respond, Arthur walked into the dinning room. Groomed and finely dressed in his school uniform. He looked at the two adults, the male had pulled his hand off the female's quickly but was undeniably blushing. Arthur let out a large smile as he moved further into the room to serve himself a stack of pancakes, and another for Alfred. If not, he knew his mother would force feed him some since he was once a malnourished child.

"Buenos Dias, Arthur," Isabella said as Arthur moved to give her a peck on the cheek,"How did you sleep?"

"Good morning, Mum," Arthur replied in his, surprisingly, incredibly thick British accent,"I slept fine," He then turned to Matthew,"Good morning, Dad."

"G-Good morning," He stuttered. The pink hue still on his cheeks.

"You know, Dad," Arthur began while taking a seat opposite of his mother,"you don't have to be embarrassed about showing affection to Mum in front of us," he teased.

"I-I-" he was cut off by the loud stomping of Alfred coming down the stairs. He was wearing the complete opposite of Arthur's clean attire. His uniform was wrinkled, the pants were covered in fuzzies, and his tie was some kind of newly invented Boy Scout knot. Luckily his glasses weren't crooked and his face looked washed.

"Good Morning, Mom! Mattie! And Artie!" He grinned and kissed Isabella and Arthur on the cheek, since he and Matthew found it gross to do it to each other. After seeing that Arthur had placed a plate of pancakes for him already, his grin widened and he kissed the British boy again,"Thanks, Artie!" The sandy blonde exclaimed as he dove his fork in the poor flapjacks. Arthur just smiled warmly at seeing his little brother looking so happy, despite his disgust of his table manners. He was finished within 120 seconds.

"Alfred, make sure you're chewing your food first," Arthur warned as he pushed his own plate towards Alfred, who took it gleefully.

Isabella and Matthew having witnessed the whole scenario glanced at each other. The other knowing fully well what the other was thinking," They always act like this," Matthew spoke to his wife in hopes of reassuring her," You might be worrying too much."

Ignoring her husbands comment, Isabella spoke,"Are you both staying after school again?"

"Yeah! Homecomings just around the corner so we have to practice!" Alfred announced as he finished drinking his milk.

"I have student council work, too." Arthur responded as he took his and Alfred's plate to the sink.

"Alright, do you want to take the car, then?" Matthew offered, worried about the dangers at night.

"No need! Because the Hero will be there to protect us!" I think you know who.

"We'll be fine, we won't be back that late," Arthur commented in order for his mother to not push them into taking it. He could never really say no to her. Matthew nodded in confirmation.

After helping clean up the table, Arthur and Alfred both stood up to leave but before they turned, Arthur gasped. He finally realized just how horribly unpolished his little brother looked,"For goodness sakes! Alfred!"

"What?" The latter responded confused.

"Your. Bloody. Appearance!" Arthur shouted as his eyebrows furrowed in discontent.

"Oh, that... Hehe... I forgot," The American smiled while rubbing his neck,"Um... Can you help me?"

In no time, Arthur had his hands on Alfred's uniform. Removing the dark blue blazer to tuck in his dress shirt, flatten out the sleeves, removing the fuzzies with a special brush, rolling the uniform, fixing the tie, etc, until he looked decent to say the least.

Isabella stared as Arthur moved to fix the tie, needing Alfred to bend to his height and move unsettling close to one another. The entire time he was lecturing the younger boy about the proper ways to dress oneself. It was a boring speech but Alfred was smiling... An unusual reaction from someone who was being lectured.

After finishing, Alfred pouted about being lectured since he has heard it about a bazillion times already. Arthur responded with a snappy comment that lead the younger boy into more pouting. He stopped though once The British boy laughed and kissed his forehead in apology. Alfred's nose blushed.

Isabella raised an eyebrow at that action.

The boys then kissed Isabella good bye, and proceeded to make their way to school.

Nothing to worry about, right?

 


	3. What luck, right?

"And just how do you manage to get a bloody 75% on your Spanish quiz!?" Arthur bewilderedly asked Alfred on the sidewalk, off their street, that would take them to their school.

"Hey! I had the 6th highest score in that class while the rest bombed it!" Alfred defended himself with hands still in his uniform pant's pockets,"Plus! Spanish is hard!" He whined.

Arthur stopped walking and crossed his arms," Yes but your class doesn't have the advantage of having a fluent Spanish speaking mum like us! Who, as you know, would regularly use her language in our home!" He retorted. His eyes slightly narrowing as he expected his brother to find another excuse.

"That's has nothing to with it!" Alfred continued to argue, though his voice wasn't as strong as before,"... I tried really hard on it..." He mumbled the last part. Alfred looked at the ground where he stood, his hands, no longer in his pockets, were tightly clenched fist on his sides.

It was true, he really did try hard on all his tests and or quizzes. Spanish in particular. It wasn't like he didn't pay attention to his mom when she spoke it, it was just that the words wouldn't stick in his memories. It was frustrating, because he wanted to impress Arthur with not only sports but his grades! Arthur was one of the smartest people his family and everyone else knew, since little he got the top scores in every class. So, of course Arthur valued intellect highly.

Also, whenever Alfred managed to get a nearly perfect score on his tests/quizzes, Arthur would smile, stop whatever he was doing, and take the young American boy for ice cream as congratulations. It was a great excuse to spend time with each other as brothers, since Arthur would be very busy with college applications and scholarships soon.

Arthur's stiff posture relaxed and his eyes soften. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what's wrong with a car; and in this case it doesn't take a shrink to guess what was going around Alfred's head at the moment. Like his mother, Arthur could just tell by the look on his face. (Or at least he thought he could.)

"I know. I'm sorry Alfred," Arthur began his apology,"I... I exaggerated too much," He moved closer to the taller boy and tried to reach his sandy blonde head to pet,"Well, at least it won't affect your GPA," Arthur tried to look at the more positive side with a small smile.

Alfred wanted to say it was alright, but he couldn't. His plan didn't go the way he wanted plus he made Arthur worry. He just weakly nodded with a grunt.

With a slight frown on his lips, Arthur sighed. He knew that when the energetic Alfred moped he moped. But the British boy knew just what to do,"Hey, Alfred... Do you want to get ice cream after your football practice?" He took a few steps back.

At his words, Alfred's head immediately snapped up so his eyes could lock with Arthur's in shock,"... Wha?.." He gaped.

"Or we could go for a salad," Arthur's voice was nonchalant but his lips were smirking and his arms were crossed over his chest,"God only knows how much weight you'll gain if I were to take you for frozen unhealthy dairy," he teased.

The American composed himself,"Dude, not cool about the gaining weight thing," Arthur shrugged,"And don't you have work to do for the student council?" He asked knowing that in the previous year, his first year of high school, He was the one that had to wait for Arthur since his student activities seemed to drag on longer.

"I can put it off for now, but if you don't want to, and are too concerned about your weight to go then..." He trailed off.

"YES! I mean no! I mean - ugh!" Alfred tried to compose a comprehensive sentence as Arthur chuckled loud enough for only himself to hear. After a minute he cleared his throat,"I would totally like to go for ice cream" He exclaimed with a big smile,"but keep my weight out of this. I'm not fat!" He pouted," just tall."

"I hate to disagree," Arthur said through a fake cough. Two blue eyes narrowed at him as Arthur tried very hard not to grin. He then turned and began to walk to school again.

Alfred watched the figure of the Brit walk away until a mischievous face made its way to his features. He charged after the Brit and with some force slammed onto him. His arms quickly wove themselves onto Arthur's shoulders and Alfred successfully put him into a headlock," Revenge!" Alfred proclaimed as he proceeded with ruffling the already rowdy blonde hair.

Arthur was in shock at first, but it quickly faded into fun and childish laughter,"Alright, alright! You got me! And don't mess up my hair, twat! It's already a mess to begin with! You are just making it worse!" He said through chortles.

"Not 'til you apologize!" Alfred said while laughing as well. He couldn't help but keep rubbing Arthur's hair. It was very soft, despite how raggedy it looked, and smelled like roses from their mom's shampoo that Arthur used once in a while secretly (well, he thought he did it secretly but in truth the whole family knew he liked to sneak some on).

He was so busy with his fascination of Arthur's hair that he almost missed the contact of his fingers with Arthur's skin. His hand had traveled downwards, causing the accidental brush of his tips along Arthur's neck. The Brit tensed and involuntarily squirmed, making Alfred hold him tighter and discover something new about his older brother. He was very, very slim. He felt slim too, with his arms wrapped around his shoulders, almost bone like. Arthur used to be malnourished, was he Anorexic now? Alfred swore he would be able to carry the Brit like a feather. His eyes roamed around Arthur's stick like body. Weak, was the first word that came into Alfred's mind. Then, his vision rested on Arthur's neck, his pale, slender, unblemished neck. Defenseless, was the last description that floated through his until he was pulled out of his thoughts.

"Alfred!" A worried and slightly irritated accent rose,"I said Alfred!"

Shaking his head from the daze the called boy answered," Er, what did ya say? Sorry,"

"I said 'I'm sorry' so you can let me go!" His voice was more irritated which made Alfred let go of him immediately; he really didn't want Arthur to take back the invitation. Arthur straightened himself and looked at Alfred who took a step back,"also, are you alright? You spaced out for quite a while when I was trying to get your attention." His voice was now filled with worry as he moved closer to the other boy.

"I- how much do you weigh?" Alfred asked.

" What does that have to...? The same amount as last year; no more no less. Now stop avoiding the question," Arthur replied. He knew that Alfred's strategy of avoiding questions required him to make the other person angry about something else entirely. And there was no way He was going to fall for it.

However, Alfred wasn't avoiding the question at all. Hearing Arthur's answer made the young American embarrassed! What exactly had he been thinking about?! Arthur being Anorexic? His body being too slim? That was obviously just the American growing! Weak? Arthur wasn't weak! He beats up Fancy-pants Francis, who is taller and more built than Arthur, up everyday! There was no way he could tell Arthur he thought he was Anorexic! He'd flip out on the spot! But what about his other thought? Defenseless? Against what? Others? And what about his neck? Oh god, his neck! Just what did he think about his neck?!

By now, Arthur had witnessed the various expressions that had passed through his little brother's face. He didn't say anything until Alfred's blue eyes widen and breath hitch,"... Alfred..." Arthur, with furrowed brows, asked cautiously, his hand stretching towards Alfred's shoulder.

The American jumped at the hand coming towards him. Before Arthur could react to the action, the American hollered," We're going to be late!"

Arthur, composed, flicked his wrist and glanced at his watch. Pure horror coated his features as he realized the time," Oh my fucking bloody God! We have 15 fucking minutes!" He dashed with Alfred following right behind him.

What luck did he have for being right.

~

Both the American and Brit were crouched over, hands on either hips and knees, trying to breath through shallow pants without gagging. They had made it to there too large private school, Worlds Across Academy, in less than two minutes.

If Alfred didn't feel like dying right now, he would have ran inside the school and dragged the yearbook committee outside to dub this as "the fastest race before being late to school" record.

"We... Are so bloody lucky," Arthur panted with hands still on his hips.

Alfred grinned," Yeah, we sure are bro!" He gave Arthur's back a light slap and straightened up. He made sure to check from the corner of his eye for any unwanted, clingy students.

After regaining some balance, Arthur smoothed his shirt and ruffled Alfred's hair,"I'll be going then," he turned on his heels but was pulled back, with a choke, by his collar.

"Wait," Alfred exclaimed,"Aren't ya forgetting something?" The American boy feigned hurt with watery eyes as he pointed to his forehead.

Arthur coughed away a smile at his little brother's childish action. Something's never change, The British boy thought, but didn't complain. Arthur had always wanted a little brother. Ever since he heard the conversation his mum and dad had one night in England. He was six at the time and quite lonesome even if his mum and dad were there with him; it wasn't the same as playing with a child your age. In a way he wanted to shower someone younger than him a kin with affection. To teach him about things he didn't know yet and be stern when they needed it. Though, when he got one in a clearly unexpected way, he was still happy but surprised his affections were being returned.

He motioned the taller boy to bend a little while he used his tip toes to reach the rest (he had a slight complex about his short height).

It might have been unusual to some people to see two grown up boys kissing each other on the forehead. Especially when one so happened to be a popular jock and the other the stone cold senior president. A great setting for a cliche type of story where the jock and brainiac end up together, don't you think?

However, the alumni and faculty of the school knew very well about the boys relationship from M. Jones book (aka Matthew Williams). So no one so much as batted an eyelash in their direction to this sort of interaction. This was just a way that they were taught to show brotherly or familial affection towards each other; since they were raised by a Mexican mom and French-Canadian dad/brother (from the two most romantic countries). If it was okay at home, then it was okay school. Or so they all thought.

"Arty!" A cheerful voice suddenly chirped.

Both boys jumped a little and Arthur whipped his head to the side. Alfred, following his brother's movement, internally cursed at the person who called out.

Bronze hair in a wavy bob came running towards the boys from across the street. Sun kissed skin stretched into a grin on the person's slightly rounded face. However, her body was not childish; she was voluptuous with a tiny waist and long legs; despite this person's extraordinary consumption of fast food. The last redeeming quality, and Arthur's favorite, would have to be her eyes. Her very blue, blue eyes. Eyes that held freedom and childish mischief all the way to the center of the cornea.

Eyes that resembled Alfred's own.

"Mornin', Amelia. And by the way it's Arthur!" The Brit huffed and smacked the girl playfully on the head when she reached the boys," I see you had a splendid time in Florida,"

Amelia giggled as she tightened the guys uniform blazer around her waist, the white dress shirt hugging her curves tightly in a sort of pro active way but not as much. She sported no tie and wore a black skirt (made from the boy's dress pants). Overall, she didn't wear the girls required suspended skirt uniform, she went by her own thing that no one complained about anymore.

"You can tell?" She asked as she modeled her tan by striking different poses revealing the allowed amount of skin.

Arthur chuckled at her goofiness while Alfred glared daggers at the Junior female. He never really liked her, since, she would always trying to steal Arthur's attention from him. His dislike for her worsened when many people commented on how he and Amelia looked and acted alike (plus they were both American and proud of it!). Alfred F. Jones was his own man! A unique! One of a kind human! There was no one else like him in the world!

Alfred stopped his own self praising when he noticed Amelia blowing a kiss to his older brother and sending a smirk his way.

"You should get going as well, Alfred," Arthur told the American as he tip toes to kiss the side near his jaw; it was the only place he could reach.

The once angry American boy, felt his heart sputter but grin goofily,"Yea! See ya after practice, Arty!" He rushed into through the gates and into the school.

Arthur secretly smiled but quickly put on a stern face for the day.

Bzz. Bzz.

His phone vibrated. And Arthur automatically took out his iPhone from his blazer pocket, ignoring the fact that he had 6 minutes left to get to class. A text from an unknown number appeared.

Remember 2 call me 2day.

He dialed the number and put the phone to his ear,"Hello? This is Arthur," He spoke.


	4. It's just growing up, right?

"Hah..." Isabella sighed for the umpteenth time today. Thankfully, she was in her office, the only place she could be her true, tired old self at work; while wearing today's professional outfit; red colored dress shirt covering a few inches below the waist of her fitted black dress pants.

She laid back on the leather chair with closed eyes. A lot was going through her mind at the moment and the amount of paper work on the corner of her black steel desk was doing nothing for the growing headache. Being the representative of Wa-Ho Publishing, or any in that matter, was frustrating from time to time; however, it would be very unprofessional and quite rude to show any emotion of discontent towards her work; well, anywhere other than her own office. Luckily, her late husband's family hammered the importance of being professional at all times to all kinds of people into her, so hiding those kind of feelings were easy.

Turning a blind eye from a certain spot on her desk, Isabella let her vision wander over to the photos propped on near her and on her laptop. The first starting from the left was of her and a younger Arthur; Isabella, dressed in a green springy dress, had a young Arthur, dressed in Jean short-shorts and tan T-shirt, on her lap under a tree with a book propped on top of Arthur's knees. The next was of a slightly older Arthur holding hands with a seven-year-old Alfred while sleeping on the sofa. Next was of Alfred, in a superman shirt and red shorts, one hand was out of the shot, smiling in the hands of Matthew, with small circles under his eyes but dressed in a suit, who was taking him to kindergarten; it was a lot of work to get the American boy ready.

The picture to the right of her computer was of her and Matthew; both dresses in very long, oversized winter coats (tan for Matthew and dark brown for Isabella). Matthew had both arms wrapped firmly around the Mexicans waist while Isabella had her hands gently placed on the Canadians broad chest. Both were wearing scarves, mittens, and ear muffs to keep warm from the swirling snow around them. But at that time, they weren't aware of the snow even though it was the first snow fall of the season. No, they were aware of the dangling red plant with three leaves above them. Matthew was slightly hunched over as his lips placed themselves on Isabella's cheek; his eyes were shut and pink dusted over his nose. Isabella was smiling with a light red tint, matching the rose accessory she wore, on her cheek bones. There were more pictures of her two boys, her husband, and herself displayed on her desk but Isabella didn't feel up to looking at them, not when they were the object of her worry or growing migraine.

Nevertheless, Isabella smiled warmly but tiredly. She had been pondering the strange feeling she had all day and looking at the photos only made the feeling grow. At times like this, she wished she could have someone to talk to, listen, analyze these motherly problems she was having. However, most of her "friendships" were only work related with executives or workers from other companies. It was shallow in a way like Gossip Girl but not as problematic. Matthew had dismissed it this morning, so there was a chance he would dismiss it again.

Maybe... Maybe I am worrying too much... Isabella thought while staring at her laptop screen with a photo of the three most important men of her life. While being preoccupied by the digital screen, the Mexican hadn't noticed that she had been reaching for a certain middle drawer on the left side of her desk. Not until she felt the cool touch of metal.

Jerking her hand away at the touch she contemplated on whether or not to risk taking out what was inside. After a few seconds, she opened the drawer and took out the upside down frame.

The frame was metal, sterling silver to be exact, that wasn't solid but instead a mess of stringy vines with rind stone decorations. The photo itself was just as dazzling. A Japanese man with black raven hair was dressed in a finely tailored black suit; fitted to his body to make him look slightly taller. He looked very attractive as he smiled with soft open caramel eyes, but only half of his attention was directed to the camera. His attractive smile and attention were all directed to the person he was lovingly gazing at. His gaze was reciprocated by a soft brown look. A Mexican woman, an inch taller than the Japanese man, had her ringed hands firmly on his shoulders. She was dressed in an equally constructed white dress stitched with a few frills and lace that would highlight the body. Sounds like a mess but it was a truly breath taking dress. The veil was up, over a braided bun with small flowers and out of her face. Her skin glowed with happiness as the man had his hands on either side of her hips pulling her closer. The two in the photos shared nothing common as people every other day, but this day, the two individuals did have at least two things in common: 1) a look of happiness 2) a new shared last name.

The photo was taken at a park in England, Isabella recalled. It was not raining, thankfully, and the sun was just as bright as their spirits. As well as the rest of her newly extended family. Despite the previous arguments of how and where the wedding should be held. There was much argument about having a traditional Japanese ceremony in Japan to honor Kiku's side of the family. Many elders pushed for such a ceremony while the younger ones thought a modern, flashy wedding was in order for publicity.

Isabella would have never imagined the quiet, mature Kiku would slam his hands on a wooden table and shout the words," Enough, please," to a bunch of people. Or even put his own argument in, that this was his and Isabella's wedding! They would be the ones to decide how it would go and where it would be! Frankly, his outburst goggled everyone, but before protests could arise, the Wang and Honda grandparents agreed," This is their wedding therefore it is their decision, no one else,"

Everyone reluctantly agreed.

Isabella smiled a rare smile, one that only Arthur and Matthew had seen a handful of times. Her fingers traced the outline of the frame. It had been some time since she last thought of Kiku, only when stressed seemed to build up in her, and looking at him always seemed to calm her, he had that affect on people. As much as the photo of him calmed her, Isabella knew she could never have it displayed in her office or house. Matthew had always had an uneasy look whenever he saw a picture of Isabella's first husband.

Knock. Knock.

Quickly, Isabella shoved the frame back into the drawer and closed it with a loud thump. Then She proceeded to open the drawers to her right, take some papers and folders out, and put them back in while she responded,"Enter," to the knocking.

The door open with a lot click," Morn'n Miss Williams, I hope I wasn't interrupting anything?" The feminine voice of a long haired, red head spoke from the door; Isabella felt her headache grow again. Her tall frame almost reached the top of the entrance but her body was nowhere in covering the rest of the entrance. Princess, was the appropriate description for her very thin and tall frame that contained natural beauty with a pale complexion and enchanting green eyes. This, Isabella thought, the person knew quite well.

"Buenos Dias, Ashling," Isabella replied with a hard smile on her face,"No, you aren't interrupting anything. I was just organizing some files to make room for the ones on my desk," she gestured to the still untouched pile of paperwork on the corner of her desk," Did you need something?" Isabella asked kindly, reminding herself that she is the "adult".

Ashling grinned, lighting up her whole face, as she came inside the office with two Starbucks cups, that Isabella finally noticed, in hand," Just to bring you something to drink," she handed Isabella a warm cup. It was hard to sometimes hate Ashling. She was kind to her coworkers, a suck up to the superiors, beautiful, and smart to boot. All things that Isabella knew would help an editor rise in position in any company. Even if she was only in her early 20's.

"And to ask what kind of coffee Matthew likes, Miss Williams, so I can bring him a cup. To keep his motivation for the book going," It was hard, but not impossible.

Isabella felt her eye twitch but pretended it was something in her eye. Ashling was like any other money laundering, husband stealing, con- artist 23- year-old out there! A new wannabe Editor or whatever working with a young and upcoming writer, with famous published works, only to try and seduce him with skimpy ass clothing (that Isabella was sure she had in her car) to make him do her bidding. It sure as hell didn't help that Matthew's popularity ranged from teens to forty-year-old women!

"He likes black coffee. Are you going check on his work?" There was no frickin' fucking way Isabella was going to let a slutty child take her husband!

"Yup! And Thank you I'll be on my way," she turned and sashayed a little out before closing the door.

Isabella stood standing over her desk with the cup clasped in both hands. A smile still plastered on her face, though inwardly, she was fuming with rage over the disrespectful way she was referred to as "Miss Williams".

She's just a child, Isabella kept repeating to herself while trying very hard not to break he styrofoam cup in her hands. It's just a silly little crush that she'll grow out of eventually.

Plopping herself on her chair again she exhaled. It's just growing up, right?

The thought immediately morphed into an image of her two sons but was gone just as quickly by the sudden potent order of caffeine.

The Mexican's nose wrinkled as the stench reached her senses, once she had brought he coffee cup up to her mouth. It was indeed coffee. With one cream! God, the child didn't even have he decency to at least put some sugar in it!

Despite the drink lacking sweetness Isabella took a sip then another before dumping it in the trash.

This is foreshadowing for things to come (•U•)/


	5. Everything's okay, right?

"And thank you again, Miss Ashling! Good day," Matthew closed the door to his house after the young red-head left; dissatisfied in a way. Turning around and leaning his back on the white door, the Canadian sighed. He literally almost shoved his young editor out of his house, if not for the coaxing he used to gently get her to leave.

Ashling, in Matthew's opinion, was a fantastic editor despite her young age, thorough, charming, and good looking (like the "perfect beauty" in a manga). Overall, an extraordinary kid. However, he could make do without her constant tampering in his life; or how she puts it "getting to know each other" for the sake of their business relation. She would ask things such as his likes, dislikes, going for the occasional caffeinated beverage, and of course, the story of the rocky road to his supposed fame while checking up on him (where she stayed at his and Isabella's house for a total 2 hours); to which the Canadian had no problem with answering. It wasn't until she started telling, assuring, Matthew that he could trust and confine in her with anything, one day while they were out for lunch (that she invited him to); her hand "accidentally" ended up on top of his during her proclamation. Then came the increasing "checking up on his work" days that used to be only once a week at most; the majority of their consulting was through phones. She claimed that talking face-to-face was more effective. Ashling's clothes had changed, today her black skirt was a little more than above her knees, showing off her model like long legs, her white dress shirt might have had an extra silver button undone, and her hair moved to one side of her face to expose a little more collarbone.

Matthew didn't know if it was either a new trend going around, or business clothes had changed to become more liberal.

The occasional hand on the arm lingering longer than necessary and some longing looks; however, the Canadian man hadn't really noticed those just yet. So, he came to the conclusion that his editor had a childish crush on him. Though, Most older men would be absolutely ecstatic at a beauty young woman showing clear sexual interest in their old agging selves. But not Matthew.

He was a married man! A happy married man to be exact! With a beautiful understanding wife and great kids! He even wrote a book based on his meeting with Isabella up until they were married! And a good chunk of the population loved his story!

Matthew groaned and tilted his head back so it was now resting on the door. It wasn't a comfortable, or even safe, place to think by the door so Matthew trudged to the couch and plopped faced down on a cushion. His tall height caused his feet to dangle over the arm rests of the couch but he was used to it by now. He had to say, that he felt bad about this morning as another groan escaped his lips.

He knew there was something odd going on, he'd known for a long while now. Since that trip Isabella and Arthur took when Alfred was just in his first year of middle school. Though, THAT happened he thought it would just go away with time or fix itself.

It was that particular part of himself that he knew his newly extended "family" hated.

His thoughts traveled to the past joy, tears, hardships, and ever ending uncertainty, that came in the mere two years before getting married to Isabella. They had to go from strangers to coworkers to friends to close friends to eventually lovers in less than a year. Perhaps, the fact that they lost people dear to them pushed them into becoming closer with one another and into a most irrational conclusion of marriage, as Isabella's and Arthur's extended family put it.

The family of his wife's first husband was the hardest and tallest hurdle he had to face. When they announced their engagement, the family literally blew up in exasperation! They were nice until that point, sipping tea, minus Isabella who, for some odd reason, asked for water, around a wooden rectangular table on the floor; people's knees serving as chairs under mats; in an old traditional house Japanese house in England. Throwing hurtful comments like the Canadian "not being good enough" or "up to standards" like her first husband. One particular relative came at Isabella with hurtful comments," Marrying a man when not even 2 years passed after your husband's death? Ha! You never really loved Kiku in the first place!"

Isabella, his professional wife in front of others, barked back at the short female family member," MEI! You, out of all the people in THIS ROOM, have NO RIGHT, to bring up ANYTHING regarding Kiku," her voice cracked," and..." her lower lip trembled as her eyes widened in realization,"... me..." the stinging sensation of tears pricked and fell too slowly from her face.

Seeing his betrothed silently cry brought forth a wave of emotions from inside the stunned Canadian. Why?... Why do I feel angry and upset? Matthew thought as he saw the slight movement of her shoulders. She was trembling now. He swallowed the rising lump in his throat and tried to reach for the trembling Mexican.

However, he was too slow. A spiky dark brown haired man with half rimmed rectangular glasses covered Isabella's watery eyes with his hand. This just made the wave of emotions inside Matthew roar but he stayed put in fear that he would hurt the man touching Isabella.

"I believe this matter should be left alone for now," Another man, a lot shorter than the four-eyed-boy with long black hair in a pony tail spoke. He made his way towards the three and put a hand on the Mexican's free shoulder; where Matthew was coincidentally. The long haired man's gaze traveled to the teapot on the table, a smile appeared on his face as he reached for it," We're out of tea, I'll go get more with Thai," He gestured for Thai to stand up with Isabella and Thai gestured to Matthew to come as well.

The four left the room and walked down the narrow hallway until they reached a much larger door. Matthew followed behind the four-eyed man who was behind Isabella who followed the long haired man. The long haired man turned and gave Thai the teapot," Can you please?"

Thai nodded and headed back the way they came. He stopped a bit behind Matthew first and mumbled," Be the one to protect her next time," Matthew whipped his head around to make sure he heard right, but Thai was already long gone.

A tug from his betrothed made him face forward again. The long haired man had ventured inside the room and Isabella, facing the ground, waited for Matthew to follow inside. Once inside, Matthew took in his surroundings. The room was surprisingly modern. Tables and chairs, made from wood of course, an electric stove, marble counters, sink, and a fridge, all clean and polished.

Isabella didn't even ask to sit down, as she plopped her on a chair. The long haired man was at the stove setting up another teapot with what was assumed tea inside. Matthew went over to the man, who looked like he was struggling with getting a tea set down from the counter, and reached for said tea set. He handed it to the long haired man who looked him up and down before taking the tea set with a smile," Thank you. At least your of use with miscellaneous problems,"

Matthew's violet eyes grew wide with mild shock," E-Excuse me, c-can you repeat that?"

The haired man sighed as he set up three white tea cups with saucers. He turned to face the shock Canadian and spoke again," To be frank, I don't see the use you serve for Isabella, aru~" an accent appeared from his words.

"E-Eh?!"

Another sigh,"You were too jealous over a dead man to defend yourself. Isabella was the one-"

"That's enough, Yao," Isabella's voice was weak but strong, if that made any sense?

They both turned to see Isabella still looking at the ground. Yao was the first to speak," It's the truth. You knew what I was about to say to him yet you didn't stop me until I said dead-," Matthew felt himself tense.

"Yao," Isabella's voice was meant to be a threatening whisper.

At this point Yao had set a cup and saucer in front of the Mexican, after leaving one in the counter for Matthew. The Mexican tensed and clutched herself tightly when the sweet aroma of rose tea spilled into her cup.

Yao patted Isabella's head," You do love him. You miss him." He softly murmured to the trembling female who was now using her hands to cover her mouth.

"It's alright, I'll make sure you and Arthur are happy for him," Isabella's hands grabbed onto the fabric of Yao's shirt and buried her face in it.

The poor Canadian could only stay where he was and watch the scene of his crying wife being comforted by another man who wasn't him. He felt... Useless...

"I'll convince them, don't worry," Yao smiled and placed the teacup into her hands," Drink it's your favorite,"

Hearing that the tea was Isabella's favorite peaked Matthew's curiosity. He brought the white teacup to his lips and sipped. It tastes like roses...

They left for America two days later and a week after that Yao came for a "visit" or interrogation of their living and Matthew. The family had agreed to use Yao as a sort of ambassador for the whole Wang and Honda family. It would be his choice whether the couple should marry or not in the end.

Matthew frowned as his memories took on a sour taste. He really didn't want that particular scene to play in his mind. Though in a way he was grateful it happened. It made him into a best selling author, but the thought of his wife thinking of her first husband was in other words upsetting.

I'm in a bad now... The quiet Canadian pouted and rolled on the couch.

Bzz. Bzz.

He felt his phone vibrate and being the good person he is, he pulled it out from his pants pocket and read the text he received.

Isabella <3: I'll be home soon! What are you up to? Did the boys arrive, yet? Are you making dinner tonight or am I?

Matthew smiled, shuddered at the mention of her cooking (she wasn't bad it was just that her food was so spicy that it caused poor Arthur to loose his Tate buds; thus the reason for his terrible cooking), and smiled again.

Matthew: I'm just sitting in the couch contemplating my empty life without you. Why? No they're not home yet. And I'll cook dinner.

He blushed scarlet at the message he had sent. I'm so bold, he buried his face farther into the pillow.

Isabella <3: Geez! Your such a Casanova! (-3-) Alright, do you need me to pick anything up from the store?

Matthew: Not in particular. I'm making soup.

Isabella <3: Okay then. I'll see you when I get home.

Matthew: Yup, I'll be waiting.

Isabella <3: Flirt. :P

Matthew: You're the only one that knows.

Isabella <3: ............ Matthew

Isabella <3: Te amo

Matthew clutched the pillow he was holding as he typed his response and sent it. Then quickly he sat up, got of the couch,and made his way to the kitchen," Better get cooking," he said to no one.

Matthew: Je'taime

~

Everyone was gathered around the Kitchen area, helping with the few dishes that were still around the table from their scrumptious meal of vegetable stew.

Arthur and Alfred excused themselves to do homework in there rooms which left the spouses alone to clean the kitchen," Arthur didn't eat much today. I'm getting a little worried." Matthew commented as he dried a wet cup with a drag before putting away on a shelf.

"Don't worry, they went to the ice cream parlor before coming home... There were some left over sprinkles on Alfred's shirt when he arrived," Isabella chuckled half heartedly when in truth she wondered why they went alone and didn't tell her.

She let out a small squeak when arms wrapped themselves around her waist, but immediately smiled when a kiss was planted on her neck," You're being awfully flirty today," Isabella commented as she continued to wash the dishes with soap.

"Hmm..." The Canadian hummed as he nuzzles the short Mexican's neck with small kisses. Tickling her in the process.

"Haha... Okay, okay, you have my atencion (attention)," She spun around to face her husband who was glad he had more access to her neck now," Do you have some sort of neck fetish?" Isabella teased.   
"No, why?" Matthew's voice was muffled.

It took a lot of will power for Isabella not shiver at the ticklish sensation of his breath hitting her skin," You always like to linger there the longest," She wrapped her arms around his neck.

Pulling back from his place, Matthew said in her ear," It's the only place you'll let me leave a mark,"

He pulled all the way back to see her face, hoping for a desired reaction. Her faded red lips curved into a sweet, innocent smile with half lidded eyes. But Matthew knew really well that that smile was actually a hidden smirk.

Using the red hue on her face to enhance her cuteness, Isabella cupped Matthew's face and so innocently cooed," Je'tiame,"

In an instant, Matthew's face flared a dark shade of pink and without hesitation he kissed the still smiling Mexican, pulling her as close as possible towards him.

In the living room, with their backs pressed against the white wall of the entrance to the kitchen stood a smiling British boy and a tomato faced American boy.

I'm glad they're happy, Arthur thought but he didn't dare look back into the kitchen for fear he may be scarred for life. There was just something's that no child should witness there parents do.

On the other hand, the flushed Alfred had a face of disgust like he just ate a vegetarian burger," Eww! Did you see that!" He whisper, shouted to Arthur," it was like they were eating each other's faces!" He stuck his tongue out but inside his feeble mind a part of him thought it was... Hot?

Arthur grimaced," And that is why you will never have a girlfriend, my dear younger brother," He huffed playfully while shaking his head.

Alfred turned and eyed his short, green eyed brother," O-Oh, yeah!" He began," Y-you haven't had one either," He smiled triumphantly, the red beginning to fade away.

At his words, Arthur's face turned the opposite direction of where Alfred was standing. A light pink dusted his cheeks and he was eerily quiet.

Blue eyes widened inside spectacles," Y-You haven't, right?! Arthur?!" Totally forgetting the reason why they were being so quiet.

" Sh-Shut up, idiot!" Arthur yelled and ran up the stairs to his room. Alfred whined right behind him.

The British boy's phone was forgotten in his school bag down in the living room. It had been vibrating for quiet a while now but suddenly ceased.

Along with 4 miss calls from an unknown number, 2 recent sent texts from the same number appeared on the bright screen of his iPhone.

Everything's ok there, right?

Remember to not tell your mom

 


	6. A dream, right?

Somewhere near the outskirts of the bustling London roads, built like a miniature castle with a brick structure, was an orphanage. The Happy Castle orphanage was its name. Though the inside was mostly white and smelled like chemicals from the constant cleaning needed, which reminded almost anyone of the inside of a hospital. Though, there was a touch of color from the arts and crafts time all kids were subjected to do, so many pictures, paintings, and home made trinkets decorated if not the halls, the rooms.

Happy Orphanage was equipped with a dinning hall, living room, wash room, library, laundry room, kitchen, and various other rooms (along with bedrooms which the kids have to share with more than 2 others) for extra. It also had a large grass area from the front to back and a few yards to its right, since the rest of the right side of the building was a wooded area.

And in the wooded area, despite the damp and cool feel, kneeled a frail, unsmiling boy. He was deep inside the maze of branches and leaves, light was minimal if not at all. He was from England, so the lack of light was no worry for the boy who was patting the damp earth with pale hands. A small twinkling light, the color of violets, came near the boy who stopped his actions and stared at the twinkling light curiously. It floated close to his hands only to float up to his face and near his nose. It lingered in that spot until it got close enough to kiss the tip his button nose.

The boy fell back with surprise but immediately giggled with childish joy. More twinkling lights came out and floated around the skinny figure of the boy. The twinkling lights talked to the boy. asking about his day or the game they should play today. They were his companions, his only real friends; not the backstabbing boys or girls in the orphanage, who only wanted friends to show the potential couples their social ability with others.

Plus... the twinkling lights knew the life the three-year-old boy had lived up until now, something the boy himself did not know. Being raised by a woman who looked similar to him in a grimy cabin in the woods somewhere until he was one and a half. She had worked herself to the bone, trying to plant their own food and only working part time as a cleaning lady. Unluckily for her, the cold was particular harsh that year so the crops failed. She made sure to leave the boy at the orphanage one night in hopes he would have a better life with another family who could provide for him. However, what the woman was not expecting, was for the boy, even though he was just baby, to fall into a depression of not eating enough. He ate like a bird, only pecking at bits and pieces of his food. The workers at the orphanage worried and at one point tried to force the food into him which he only regurgitated at the end in the bathroom, if he got there on time.

Since then, he had isolated himself and refrain from talking to anyone unless he absolutely needed to. He didn't care though, he had friends like the twinkling lights there for him. Like they always are, when he's happy, sad, angry, confused, etc. They will always be there, is what he thought.

But what he didn't know was that the twinkling lights would do for him, much more than he would have ever imagined.

Inside the orphanage, where the office was located right inside the entrance was a young couple. They were married for approximately 2 years in England and had decided to stay in the island country since then for work related issues as well as love of the island. The headmistress of the orphanage had gone over their credentials and was more than happy, if not overly joyous, that one of her fine children would go to such a nice, and not to mention, influential family.

" Then you would like to adopt a child here, correct, Mr. and Mrs. Honda?" The headmistress's English accent was thick.

" That is correct, my wife and I would like to adopt," Kiku said with small smile as he squeezed his wife's hand.

" We want to start a family with a child who, unfortunately doesn't have one of their own. We want to give them an opportunity, for lack of better words," Isabella responded with a small of her own as she returned her husband's gesture.

" And what a fine opportunity you will give to a child. Before, we go off to see the children. I would like to ask, will you make a decision today?" The headmistress, a graying lady in black, cocked a thin eyebrow.

The Japanese man and Mexican looked at each other first. Their different shade of eyes locking with each other until they each gave a nod," By the end of this week if it's alright. 1) There are a lot of children to meet here and 2) we want the child to come to care and want to with us willingly." Isabella spoke.

With a nod from the headmistress they got up and left to meet all children inside Happy Castle orphanage.

A good four and a half hours later, the couple had met every teen, pre-teen, child, boy, and girl within and around the orphanage. They were all nice kids, a little too nice which Kiku found eerily creepy, and hurt in a way, that would make any adult want to choose them to take home, but... there just wasn't that certain click that actors in movie and T. V. described as being there once you find your destined child.

" They're backgrounds are sad, but they're all good children," The headmistress had said before leaving to deal with a situation of boys running with scissors. Leaving the young couple alone by the glass door entrance to talk about the children they met.

As they were talking about one particular girl, Isabella noticed a strange light by the door. She ceased conversation with her husband as another light, a different color than the first, appeared. Curious, she got up and touched the lights through the glass with a finger. The lights instantly vanished, and appeared farther away then it was before with the addition of another. By this time Isabella was outside and chasing, with her poor husband following after, the lights that got farther and farther from her.

She ventured inside the woods, the lights leading deeper and deeper inside until they halted a few feet away. Isabella stopped as well, helping her husband, who had caught up to her, to breath. As Kiku caught his breath and was about to speak, he hushed himself for a young voice was singing.

The singing voice belonged to none other than the little blonde boy who was still surrounded by the twinkling lights. He was singing while making pretend scones out of mud for his tea party; leaves were serving as the plates and the cups were the wild tulips he had found.

The couple watched as the little boy sang the word "O" in different pitches and rhythm merrily, even though his shirt, which Isabella thought was a dress that was far too big for himself, was muddied and damp, and his green cape patched and torn. The couple couldn't see the face of the boy because he was facing opposite of them and it just made the couple even more intrigued to see the face of the happy figure they had yet to meet. What kind of expression did she have on?

" I see... hah... you... hah... found Arthur..." The heaving voice of the headmistress said surprising the spouses. Kiku and Isabella gave the headmistress a minute to compose herself.

Then Isabella spoke," He's not a girl? I was sure he was, with that skinny body,"

" I thought so as well," Kiku admitted," How old is he?"

"He's three recently, and honestly everyone here thought he was a girl too," the couples eyes shot up slightly since the boys height looked older because of his skinniness. The headmistress sighed and began to explain," He's... a special case. Malnourished and refuses to eat no matter how we force or coax him. He also doesn't like to interact with others unless they come here. Do to the teasing or comments he received about... A particular feature of his. He loves the woods, and nature very much... I'll leave you both to make contact with him... he doesn't like others from the orphanage to be around." She left the wondering couple after being thanked by Kiku.

Kiku turned to where he thought his wife was to formulate a plan about how to approach the boy, but only to find her not there. Before he could begin to freak out, he found his wife close to the boy from behind kneeling like him with her own skirts.

" Are you having a tea parting?" The little boy jumped at the sound of the voice behind him. Whipping his head for a fraction of a second to see the person who the voice belonged to. Isabella wasn't sure because his movement was too fast, but a flash of jewel green came from the little boy's face.

Still facing away from the female stranger that engaged in conversation with him, he nodded and went back to making scones, hoping the stranger would leave him be. However, Isabella was eager to befriend the boy and the twinkling," Are your little friends your guest? They seem really nice and they seem to be enjoying themselves," She smiled as a certain red light flew closer to the Mexican and landed on her open palm.

The little boy whipped his whole body around this time. His, now visible, emerald colored eyes were wide with surprise. Someone else could really see his friends? The little boy's head nodded eagerly, a movement that seemed to shake his entire stick like body.

He watched his twinkling light friend sit comfortably on the palm of the tan, curly haired stranger then float up to the red flower that was in her hair enjoying its sweet scent. The flat was unfamiliar to the little boy but it looked very pretty with its petals, despite how pointy they looked.

Isabella chuckled slightly as she found the English boy expression of fascination by, what she guessed, the red rose in hair. It was from one of the many rose bushes Kiku cultivated in their garden. He really loved the beautiful flower maybe even more than cherry blossoms. Speaking of her husband, Kiku was a foot or two closer than when they first found the boy but still not enough. Also he was craning his neck to try and figure out what was on his wife's hand that seemed to have caught the child's attention, but he just couldn't see.

Going back to Isabella, she had taken the rose off her hair and set at the eye level of the little boy," Isn't it pretty?" She asked as she offered the little boy to take it, he did with small-unshaking hands," It's called a rose, una rosa. My husband grew them in our home and gave it to me," Isabella smiled as she knew Kiku was blushing at the mention of his romantic (and secretly possessive) gesture. She turned to her pink-cheeked husband and beckoned him to move closer, to which he responded.

"Rose? Row-a? What's that?" He tilted his light-blonde head to the side in a cute fashion at the new word, his girly voice oozing childish innocence.

The young couple smiled fondly at the sound of his voice, but their smiles seemed to lessen a little as they took in the full appearance of the three-year-old child. A very fair complexion that was paler than the Japanese man's, almost sickly, his face angular, most likely from the malnourishment, long hair in disarray, and the condition of his clothes, which the couple assumed were the only ones he had.

Isabella came to her senses in order to answer the little boy," Rosa, is the Spanish word for 'rose', the flower your holding. It's a different language, one that I speak,"

"Aah," The little boy answered trying to seem smart as he traced each petal delicately with a pale finger. A small bit of sunlight peaked from the leaves of the trees and shone on the head of the little boy, making his long (for a boy) blonde hair sparkle and his long, black eye lashes shine, his complexion also seemed to glow. This just made the couple wonder what part of the boy made the other children tease him for?

The twinkling lights, left forgotten by the two that could see them floated around the female before floating back to the unfinished mud scones on the ground. Understanding, their efforts, Isabella cleared her voice before speaking," Would it be alright if my husband and I join your tea party? My name is Isabella, Isabella Honda-Cortez and this is my husband, Kiku Honda," The Mexican smiled as she and Kiku waited expectantly for the little boy to reply.

The little boy was hesitant at first but when he saw the gentle look in both party's eyes, he eased up and responded with a nod before saying," M-My name is Arthur. A-And is your husband a different language too?"

So they had a tea party and every day the couple came to see Arthur. They would always bring some kind of snack for the boy or book, since they found out he quite liked fairy tales and nursery rhymes. Every day they would play a different game both outside and inside and everyone would find it easier to speak to Arthur when the couple was around. They found him to be quite the adorably imaginative person. This just caused the couple to literally fall in love with the awkward British boy.

The British boy on the other hand was growing very attached of the Mexican woman and the Japanese man. He would find himself watching the clock for the time they would arrive and even try to hurry tomorrow to come by changing the time on all the old grandfather clock in the headmistress's room. However, he was also very, very frightened, at one point, about his fondness of the couple. He was worried they would find out his secret and abandon him. His large black eyebrows. He always used his bangs to cover them up, especially on days they visited. Though, he was quickly rid off that worry when Isabella had parted his hair to the side and exposed his shame. He was surprisingly called cute by the Mexican multiple times that day and hugged like crazy.

Arthur still had worries though, like his awkward personality, isolated social life, weird imagination, appearance (not the eye brows), things that the jealous kids had pointed out to him. But what worried him most was when the couple would tire of coming to Happy Castle, so the last day for the three to be together. The thought always brought him close to tears but he didn't cry, he didn't want to cause unnecessary trouble for the adults.

It was the end of the week and today he was even more worried because the couple was more than an hour late. He was told by the adults to not venture into the woods today so he could not go and share his sorrow with the twinkling lights. Fearing the worst, Arthur sat on the grass outside the orphanage near the line that separated the clearing from the woods. A part of him was telling him to run inside the wooded forest to cry his eyes out form the truth while another was telling him to wait like a patient boy in hopes the couple would come. The first choice was winning him over and quickly.

With a set mind, Arthur stood and took one small step towards the other area, tears began to prick from his eyes until he heard," Wait! Arthur! Please wait!" One of the accented voices, that he had learned to love, called out desperately to him.

" Arthur!" The other voice, feminine, called out as Arthur turned to find the couple running fast to him. Their once neat clothes, now disorganized. They both stopped in front of the boy panting and squatting to his level.

The blonde boy's green eyes watered as he saw the couple looking so... unlike themselves and desperate," Wh-why?!" His voice cracked as a few tears escaped from his green pools. His shoulders shook and he bit the inside of his cheek. Pale hands were clenched into small fists.

Isabella and Kiku were startled by Arthur's reaction and quickly looked at each other before nodding. Kiku pulled the willing British boy close while Isabella used her tan fingers to wipe away the stray tears from his cheeks," We're sorry we're late, Arthur," Kiku spoke.

"We needed to finish some very important paperwork before coming to see you today," Isabella hinted with her usual smile.

" Wa-Was it really important?" little Arthur asked with a shaking voice as he tried to dry the tears off himself by rubbing his fists on his eyes. The skin underneath turned red.

"Si, very important because it involved Arthur too," Isabella tugged the boy away from Kiku and into a hug.

"Me?" He received no reply until Isabella turned him around until he came face to face with a small bundle of pink roses.

The Japanese man held them out to him and he took them. Isabella was now on Kiku's side with her hand on his shoulder," Would you, Arthur Kirkland, become a family with Isabella and I?" He proposed.

"F-Family?" An alarm rang inside the boy loudly with a complete feeling of lightness. Happiness was it?

"Family," he was confirmed. And at that confirmation a smile, resembling something only an angel would have (to the couple) spread across his face and into his eyes. Everything about him, from his clothes to his body from deep inside his personality, was consumed in a magical sparkling light because for that very time he had a whole family. And the weight of the realization was crashing down on him.

~

Arthur woke up with a gasp as the he felt the weight from his dream realistically crushing him. He couldn't move his arms to get up and to his horror found that his upper body was unable to move as well. The idea of screaming 'help' seemed to be rising within the boy until he heard a soft murmur.

"Mm... Arthur... Mm," a tired voice breathed down his neck and brought the scrawny-back of the English boy closer with another sigh down his pale neck.

Arthur gave an involuntary shiver at the gross sensation on his neck, which he knew would be wet from drool by his little American brother. His unpleasant thought of drool running down his neck sent the Briton wriggling around trying to get out the large males iron-like-grip, but to no avail. The American's arm seem to tighten themselves around Arthur, refusing to let the warmth go. God he was stubborn even in his sleep!

Since he didn't want to be the reason for suffocating himself to death, Arthur took a different approach to try and free himself. He brought his legs up slightly in a bend, he rested the soles of his feet on Alfred's thighs (well, what he could reach) and pressed his bum on the Americans stomach. In honesty, he felt the position to be very uncomfortable and was sure it looked nothing else but awkward. Swallowing his pride, he began to move slightly in an up and down motion, rubbing against the American in the places his body touched.

The sleeping Alfred's grip began to loosen and Arthur kept going at it until he felt Alfred completely loose his iron grip on him and roll to the other side mumbling incoherent words along the way.

With a sigh of relief, Arthur carefully rolled out of bed in triumph. That was until he saw the time in the clock that read 6:01 in the morning. He had woken up a good 2 and 1/2 hours before school even started and this just led the boy to become annoyed with the sleeping body on his bed.

He really should tell Alfred to stop sneaking into his room at night, but with another sigh he knew he would never be able to. Since, the expression the American would give him would be one resembling a kicked puppy. Also, Arthur liked having his little brother around too much for his own good. Like a doting parent who, in a way, refuses to acknowledge his son/daughter was finally an adult.

Another sigh escaped from the lips of the British boy as he finished tying his uniform tie over his uniform in record time. He wasn't going to let himself ruin a perfectly good morning, he could always go and finish the never ending paper work on his desk in the student council room. He quietly creeped out his room and silently shut the door as he made his way downstairs to at least grab something that would count as breakfast.

He turned the corner to enter the Kitchen and hold-and-behold, he found Matthew's back, shirtless back, facing him as Matthew himself dug through the fridge to find Milk for his bowl of cereal. Arthur stared at the toned muscular back of his stepfather; you would never have imagined someone who looks or acts so weak would have such a well built body, very different from his first father. He felt small pangs of pain go through him at the thought of, why can't I look like that?!

Matthew turned and yelped at the presence of Arthur before him, almost causing him to spill the milk he was holding,"G-Good morning, Arthur," the Canadian nervously said as he fiddled with his glasses and tried to look at anything but his stepson before him," W-What are you doing up so early?"

Arthur cocked a large eyebrow in question as to why his father was acting like he was covering up some sort of crime," Good Morning, Dad. I woke up because my idiot little brother was suffocating me to death in his sleep. So I decided to wake up and go to school to finish some paper work," he huffed in "anger".

The Canadian chuckled nervously since he knew Arthur would never really be angry at Alfred," Yeah, Al's a heavy sleeper,"

With a slight smile, it was Arthur's turn to ask," What are you up so early, Dad? Where's mum, too? Did she sleep in again?"

Matthew's expression changed to one of alarm," Oh! U-Um... W-Well! Y-You know! She... Um... Isa- I mean! Your mom or mum or maman... I, She, we, Er,"

Arthur continued to listen to the Canadian until he said," It's alright, Dad, calm down. Is she not feeling well?" He tried to calm down the very red and flustered man before him.

Matthew calmed slightly and stuttered," O-Okay, she's... Not, "not feeling well"... Er... She just... Can't move... Or get up... Right... Now..." His face had turned a new shade of pink with every word he let out until trailing off at the end. He could no longer look at Arthur in the eyes.

Arthur looked a lot like the Canadian, with his flushed face and nervous demeanor," O-Oh," he stuttered while looking away as well," W-Well... I hope she gets better... And... O-Oh! Look at the time! I better be on my way to school before I'm late!... S-See you, Dad," he rushed out of his house while trying to block the forming images of his parents from his mind.

This is a dream! This a dream! That is just a bad dream! Right? Right?!

 


	7. There's a reason, right?

"Would you like more tea, Arthur?" A male voice with a slight Japanese accent asked the British boy who was sitting on a chair. He propped his head up by his arm on the only table in the Photography Club's small quarters. Surprisingly though, the room was equipped with a miniature fridge, stove, cupboards, shelves to keep pictures, and a microwave; overall, it was like another teacher's lounge. Honestly, Arthur was sure the room wasn't actually the Photography Club's REAL room. So how had the short Japanese man before him managed to obtain it? He hadn't the slightest clue.

Gambling with the faculty perhaps?

"Mmm... Yes, thank you, Kouki," Arthur responded once the Japanese man's words had sunk in. He stared at how delicately and gracefully said Japanese man grabbed the teapot and poured it into a small green-ceramic cup. Kouki gave Arthur a slight smile before going back to serve himself a cup.

No, there's no way he could've gambled. Although he might actually be good at it, with his usual straight face an all, Arthur thought with a sip of his tea.

"So, what brings you here so early in the morning Arthur? You haven't eaten breakfast yet, have you?" Kouki asked brushing some of his dull-brown, cropped hair over his ear with his hand. Emerald toned eyes looked up from the beverage and locked with rich brown.

Arthur's large eyebrows shot up," Um... How do you know I haven't had breakfast?" He began, not really sure why he was being interrogated all of the sudden, or felt like he was being interrogated. True, it was unusual for him to visit Kouki- who he discovered in the same room about 3-4 years ago- early in the morning since he would go around to see him at lunch break or after school at times. He liked the air around the Japanese man. It was a calming and gentle air, one could even say mature. An aspect, Arthur really liked but was hard to come by in people.

Kouki looked at Arthur and responded," You requested Earl Grey tea today. And you only ever ask for earl grey in the morning when you haven't eaten,"

Arthur looked at his companion in awe. Darn. He forgot his friend was also very perspective. Maybe he did gamble with the faculty.

His face scrunched up into a very complex expression. What was Arthur supposed to say? That he wanted to get rid of the image, or even the very thought, of his mum and stepdad having... Relations in their room! He didn't want Kouki to be scarred for life either.

"I'm... Contemplating something..." He finally answered.

While he was coming up with a believable explanation, Kouki spoke with one hand still on his ceramic cup," Does it have to do with the issue regarding your uncle?"

"... Yes..." Arthur replied in the same tone of voice as always. Well, it's not a total lie, the Brit reasoned since that was also one of the things he was, in a way, thinking over.

Nodding in understanding, Kouki spoke again, his time in a more soothing voice," Then... You should tell your mom, for the best... Is what I recommend you do," he shot the British boy a reassuring smile.

Arthur smiled back and very subtly glanced at the clock overhead. Then in a sudden burst Arthur stood up, cup still in hand," Oh my-," He stopped himself from swearing," Sorry, Kouki! I have to get to class. Thank you for the tea!" He ran out, completely missing what the Japanese boy was going to say.

"Oh well," Kouki sighed," I'm sure he'll notice the cup in his hand eventually,"

~ After school with Alfred~

"Twenty-five push-ups!" The Academy's Football coach bellowed at the players.

Covered in grass stains and dirt, the players still complied silently. Too silently. There were no quirky comments or silly jokes, no laughter or smiles from a certain star kicker. The atmosphere that would usually be fun filled and bright was intensive and upsetting. Even the coach felt it, but he made sure to not get involved, not when Homecoming was just around the corner.

Alfred was in the Middle of the first string, a firm scowl placed on his face with the air of 'I'm pissed' around him. He was upset that Arthur had abandoned him at home as well as waking up with a certain "surprise" in his pants (however, the Hell that happened?). And not only was it embarrassing for him to leave the room in order to take "care of it," he had also skipped breakfast! Thank god, for lunch though!

"Two laps around the field! And one to cool down," the players took off with Alfred near the head. Everyone made sure to keep a good 3 meter radius from him.

All except one, Ivan Branginsky, known to Alfred as the "cweepy kid" but now a close friend, jogged right along side of Alfred. He was fed up with the American's moping attitude and finally decided to make him snap out of it.

"What's gotten you into a pissy mood? Does it involve Arthur?" The Russian asked while still staring ahead.

Alfred's head whipped in surprise to look at the Russian," How did you know?!"

Ivan gave him a disbelieving look," Are you stu- You guys didn't come to school together," he quickly switched his earlier comment.

"He left without even telling me where he went! No text, no call, no nothing! Then I freakin' skipped breakfast and was almost effing late for school!" Alfred complained while knowing that Arthur most likely had a good reason why he left.

With a long sigh, Ivan spoke," but that's not all is it?" He wisely stated, however, he was taking a 60-40 chance of being right.

Alfred stayed quiet. He didn't want to tell Ivan about the "surprise" he had in the morning also... The Russian was right. Something else was eating away at him. Yesterday, when he was at the ice cream parlor with Arthur, Arthur would receive a text message every 2 minutes and he just had to reply to all of them, he told the American. Then when Alfred had asked what they were about, Arthur had told him it was some work he had to take care off. Of course being a hero and all, Alfred immediately knew he had just been lied to as well as having his time with his brother ruined!

"I think... He's hiding something from me..." Alfred finally mumbled.

Ivan rolled his eyes," Of course he's hiding something from you. You are siblings, you don't have to tell each other everything," normally, Ivan thought.

"But we always tell each other everything! No matter what!" The American protested with exaggerated tears peaking from the corners of his eyes.

You two aren't normal, Ivan sighed. This was annoying him faster than he thought it would," Quit acting like some jealous, stalker boyfriend. Arthur isn't that unfaithful," The Russian slowed his pace into a fast walk. He knew how much Alfred hated jokes that revolved around him and his British brother.

With a blush covering the majority of his face, Alfred heaved," Oh! Go fuck your cousin!" Luckily for the American, he knew how, in a way, Ivan's Belarusian cousin and cheerleader, Natalya, scared the living daylights out of him with her unhealthy obsession over Ivan.

" And you go do the same with-"

"Jones! Braginsky! Keep your heads in the game and get your lazy butts over here!" Their coach hollered at the only two students still walking on the track, but are now jogging to meet the rest of the players and their coach in the circle on the field," You two are vital for the Homecoming game! It's even safe to say that everyone's; students, teachers, the people of this town, and even your graduating seniors; hopes for victory rests on your shoulders," The coach and player became slightly emotional," So now it's time for all of us to man up and win the game!"

45 minutes of building their spirits and training later, Football was finally over," Are you going to pick up Arthur?" Ivan asked an already ready American by the locker room door. Sure, Ivan knew the two brothers since a young age. He knew just how attached Alfred was to the Brit and how the Brit would always happily complied to his younger brothers greed. However, with Alfred acting like he was now, it was kind of hard to tell what would happen.

"Duh! Of course! He'll be grouchy if I don't," He showed a wide, childish grin with both thumbs up before leaving with the rest of the boys that had accumulated to leave the locker room and venture throughout the field and stands.

"Why do I even bother..." Ivan sighed again as he also remembered the American's bipolar tendencies.

As Alfred jogged through the field a female voice called out to him," Hey, Alfred! Over here!"

The American turned and saw that the voice belonged to the small, tan island girl, Michelle, in the stands," Hey, Michelle," He greeted her as he jogged over to the foot of the stands," What's up? Just finished cheerleading practice?"

"Yeah, just about," She grinned as she wiped her forehead," Hey, can you tell your bro- I mean the Prez, that I'll be a bit late for student council with Amelia,"

He made sure his smile was still in place at the mention of Amelia," M'kay, now I better go before Arthur becomes like Oscar from Sesame Street," He chuckled, but there was something odd about the way he was chuckling.

Chuckling with him naively, Michelle bid Alfred good-bye and left. At the same time several of the football players were charging at the American and gave him a good old slap on the back," Way to go Al! You got yourself a cute girl for the homecoming after-party."

Alfred denied the fact and ran away before his buddies could say something else.

~ After school with Arthur~

"Arthur~ I'm so bored~" Francis whined from the place he sat which was adjacent to where the short, blonde boy was sitting on the couch.

While the French student complained, Arthur was diligently looking over yesterday's postponed paperwork. He had been reviewing, revising, calculating, and correcting the papers for a while now while sitting on his expensive yet very uncomfortable swivel chair in his presidential desk. So after so many hours sitting on that thing he decided to join the lazy Francis on the brown leather couch which was by far more comfortable," Then stop wasting your time and go do something productive! Or better yet! Do your bloody work! Idiot, frog..." He mumbled the last part. Honestly, how did Francis ever manage to get the job of Vice President?

The French man groaned," But that's so boring!" He made the exaggerated gesture of throwing himself back onto the couch with his limbs sprawled out. He kept groaning.

Arthur rolled his eyes but didn't take them off the papers he was reviewing," It's work, it's not supposed to be fun," Arthur replied.

Realizing that Arthur was not going to do anything, Francis stopped his senseless whining and smirked. A devious plan popped into his mind as he snaked both arms around the unsuspecting Brits waist. He pulled himself closer to Arthur and whispered," You know, mon amour, I can think of a way to make this time... Enjoyable..." He cooed near the others ear.

Not even a second passed when Francis found himself clutching his side with the breath knocked out of him.

Arthur, a blushing mess, had jabbed Francis's side with his elbow in one swift movement. He then proceeded to smack him up the side of his head that was exposed," YOU. STUPID. TWIT! YOU ARE SO LUCKY WE'VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR YEARS OR I. WOULD. HAVE. CASTRATED YOU!"

Despite the pain from the whacks he was receiving, Francis smiled (at least he thought he was smiling, honestly the hits he was receiving were messing with 2 of his 6 senses) because he knew- no matter how much Arthur would deny it to the point of having his teeth pulled out as torture- that was the awkward way of the British man to express his friendship with him. Yes, a friendship that started almost 10 years ago.

They both met in their second year of primary school, second grade. Francis had just moved to America, he was a very tall, lanky child who wore slightly feminine clothes, because of his mother being a clothes designer, and looked feminine as well, with his blonde hair passing over his shoulders. He was very nervous on his first day because he did not know a single person and he knew he would stick out like a sore thumb from the rest once they heard his accent. As he continued with his self-pity, until a tug from his long purple shirt snapped him out of it.

He turned and saw a few stray-strands of wheat-colored hair. With his blue eyes, he looked down onto the form of a very small frail child wearing the smallest sized dress- that was actually a shirt that stopped a little over his thighs like a dress,-he had ever seen on a child his age. The child was extremely skinny with skin as white as a sheet, her hair was blonde and short in a boyish manner, but her eyes were big and green.

The kid said hello to him and he back. They didn't ask for each other names because both were nervous but the smallest of the two had gotten the courage to go up and speak to someone to make friends. And Francis found that, that was a trait that he very much liked about the little girl in front of him, even if her dress was almost hooker material. They played together throughout the entire recess time, playing games such as tea-time or who can pick the most flowers, until it was time to leave to their separate classrooms. They both had an obvious friendship as well as an obvious misunderstanding about the other in terms regarding gender.

However, they'd soon find out the truth one Friday morning. By chance, their classes were scheduled to share the gym for exploration every Friday and when the two found each other in their separate alphabetical order lines, their smiles only grew as they both went up to each other to chat before they were dismissed to change into their proper work out attire. It was then, with confused looks on their faces, did they see each other in the boy's locker room. Each wondered and tried to explain to the other, in a discreet manner, as to not embarrass the other, that the female locker rooms where somewhere else. It wasn't until one boy, who was by now a blur in Francis's memory, went up to the two and told them that they were in the boy's locker room. Both Arthur and Francis quickly stated that they were males, loudly, then jerked their heads to face each other with gaping mouths at the mention of their actual gender.

All the boys in the locker room stopped there actions and looked to see the two, who they ALL thought were girls, proclaiming themselves to be just like them, boys. Everyone in the dull-colored, metal room blushed in humiliation and didn't say a word, not until one classmate spoke, shame clear in his voice," They both thought the other was a girl!" The others followed in order to get the humility off of themselves and onto the two poor boys.

This caused the two, to react the same way as the boys in the bathroom and try and push the embarrassment off of themselves by throwing insults on one other and causing the laughter in the locker room to rise. Of course, the teachers found out about their insults and they were both forced to apologize to one another. They didn't mean it though, and from then on they vowed, when Francis was over at Arthur's, that they would continue on like that until they graduated out of primary school.

Middle school, the Frenchman thought, was the time he was assured of the British boy's genuine friendship. Near the middle of his second year, in Arthur's room, they were both seated on the bed. Both had changed in height and appearance though Arthur was still far skinnier than average and more rebellious. Francis had summed up all his courage that day and finally, he was going to tell his long time friend his secret," Arthur... I'm bi..." His throat choked at the end of his sentence for he feared the worst possible out come; criticism. He waited, and waited, and waited for the Brit to say something awful but nothing came. When he glanced to see the face of blonde with green eyes, he was in a way surprised to see one large eyebrow arched and the look of pure confusion on Arthur's face.

"... Alright... So?.." He responded with innocence and no malice. At this point, the surprised Frenchman grabbed onto the smaller man's shoulders and shook him while explaining to him that he was waiting for criticism, awful words and looks to be shown to him by the latter. To have his secrete known by everyone and he would then be deemed a social outcast to all and thus have no life. I may have been a bit exaggerated back then, Francis thought.

After pulling out of the Francis's grasp, Arthur was able to calm the man down with a few good bops on the head. He then proceeded to tell Francis that he, himself had no sexual preference at all, which meant he didn't really care about what his future mate would be because, his mom told him, "love is an irrational, complicated thing that we have no control of," The French boy gave him a disbelieving look until Arthur told him the tale of his mother and her past relationships; something he heard whenever he wanted a story involving her and his first father.

Isabella told her son about her very open-minded and free spirited personality in her high school and college days. She was subjected to travel around the world, helping, for extra credit assignments in her classes. Though that didn't mean she couldn't have a little fun. She had been notorious and gone out with several men and women in different countries for the amount of time she was there. The stories he remembered clearly where that of an Australian man, an Austrian woman, a Norwegian man and his Icelandic brother (she did not know they were brother's at the time), a man from Denmark, an Italian, and Cuban (worst mistake of her life by the way). Matthew even contributed by saying how he had a brief attraction to a so called 'Prussian' man. There was also the heated relationship of his first father with a Greek stone carver in Greece when he was in college.

Isabella had also told him her mistakes. How she regretted sleeping with her 16-year-old Switzerland girlfriend's older brother when they were both drunk, which was still no excuse, and in the end it was still cheating on her partner. That one particular story made a teary-eyed Arthur, and now Francis, question if she had ever cheated on Kiku with another man. Isabella quickly denied it and said that the moment she locked eyes with the black-haired Japanese man, it was an instant click of love at first sight. Thus she never looked at anyone but him.

As entertaining as the story was, Francis found himself feeling a lot better. But it might have been the trigger of his playboy shenanigans. After that you could even say he developed a small crush on the Brit and it may have been that the Brit reciprocated those feelings, but this is not that kind of story.

No, they both found their friendship too great and long to ruin, so they took a silent vow to not think of each in that way.

Back to the present, Arthur was seated farther away from an injured Francis who was faced-down on the floor, clearly still injured," why! Why did you do this to me, mom Cher!" He moaned in pain.

"Because you're an idiot," the still annoyed Arthur replied but continued to look over the papers.

"An attractive idiot," Francis corrected him while getting back up on the sofa.

With a roll of his green eyes and a smirk on his lips, Arthur said," Sure, sure. Says the man who is seen as a brat by the school's nurse,"

"Leave my love life out of this!" A pink-cheeked Francis suddenly exclaimed. His posture was all and rigid.

"Love life? If I remember correctly Miss. Archer never agreed to go out with you," The two were talking about Miss Joan Archer, the schools newly appointed nurse. She got along well with the kids and was kind as well as a tease to the poor Frenchman; as well as the Frenchman's official first love.

"W-Well, how about you and your sexy American?" Francis tried to make Arthur angry enough to distract him from his unrequited love for the school nurse.

Arthur, seemingly immune to all comments regarding him and his younger brother, only scoffed and smirked," And you with your school boy fantasies?" He cocked an eyebrow and raised a cocky grin to his lips.

At this point, Arthur hadn't noticed that Francis had been moving closer and closer to him. Not until he found himself pinned down on the ground with Francis looming over him with his infamous "rape face."

"H-Hey, Francis..." The Brit was now quite nervous at what his French friend had in mind for him.

"You had you chance, mon cher," He moved his face closer to the small blonde's neck. Mere inches from...

" Arthur! The HE- what's going on here..." Alfred gaped at seeing his older brother straddled on the floor with a very red fae. His stomach churned and his instincts told him to go and punch Francis off his brother.

Sadly, he wouldn't get to. Francis was just as shocked at Alfred barging in as Arthur, and was left stunned. However, Arthur had enough awareness to knee the Frenchman in the stomach in order to free himself," That's for scarring my little brother!" He yelled at the boy in pain on the floor in anger but then switched to a much kinder tone as he talked to the American," It's nothing, Alfred. Francis was just being stupid," He smiled as he gathered his things while Alfred only stared.

As he gathered his things from his desk, he found the ceramic teacup patiently waiting on the corner," Oh, Alfred," He began.

"..Yeah?" The American regained his senses back after hearing his name a second time.

"Can you stay here while I got take care of something? I don't want Amelia or Michelle to be assaulted by the idiot on the floor," He gestured to the "idiot," who was still clutching his stomach.

"...Okay!" He flashed Arthur a winning smile before he left. Honestly, though he wanted to drag Arthur home and interrogate him on just what the fuck was going on between him and Fancy-pants Francis!? Also why was it making him feel so sick?!

Alfred's face was a lot like many young peoples, as in his emotions would reflect on his face. So thus, a certain French boy could tell that what the young boy had just witnessed--himself pinning Arthur on the sofa-- was something he absolutely did not like, as well as something else entirely he found displeasing. It left the French man... intrigued.

With the smile of a cheshire cat, Francis got an amusing idea.

Arthur returned shortly after and after Alfred told him about Amelia and Michelle, he frowned but said he would text them their work. The Brit then gestured for the two to leave and told Francis to lock up the room when Francis, irritatingly, sang," Don't forget I'm coming over to your house on Friday, to talk to your dad!"

With a roll of his eyes and a disgraceful sniff, Arthur replied," I know, you bloody idiot! You've been reminding me since Monday!" Before he left his brother, who was literally dragging him from behind now.

His announcement got the desired reaction out of Alfred, youthful eyes turning wide then narrowing with a scowl and an almost pleading look to the other that it was a lie. Oh, this is going to be fun!

 


	8. It's not suspicious, right?

Isabella, who had been up for a quite a while now, was leaning against the head board of her and Matthew's king sized bed. It had taken her a while to get up in a sitting position but with a set mind, and various pillows provided to her by her husband, she was able to while feeling only minimal pain in her hips. But despite the pain that was still coursing through her lower half, she thought it was bearable after seeing the cute blushing and stuttering face Matthew made when asking if he had been too rough on her, which she had to deny again. He then tried to make amends by telling his wife he would bring her breakfast in bed and doing all the chores around the house.

He's such a dork, the Mexican chuckled while playing with a small pillow.

A loud bang caused the Mexican woman stop laughing and jerk her head to the curtain-covered window on her left. Was that the front door? Did either of the boys leave? Isn't it still to-

"Mmph," Isabella clamped her mouth tight to prevent herself from crying. When she heard the bang, her body had moved on its own, a bad idea considering the aching throbs her back was giving her had yet to cease. Maybe... he did over do it last night, Isabella thought, the pigments in her skin producing another color on her body other than tan or dark purple.

With an embarrassed look on her face, Isabella saw the purplish-blue marks, of various sizes, all over her dark-brown body. From her chest down to inner thighs, the marks continued, and no doubt there were more on her back. I probably left some hickey's... and scratch marks too..., the softly blushing woman theorized from last nights... er, rigorous activity.

This just made Isabella marvel at how her sweet, shy, lovable, cute, and warm Canadian-he still gets flustered about holding hands in front of the children- could turn into a dominant, confident, sexy, beast with so much energy at night. Was he what people called a wolf in sheep's clothing? Innocent on the outside but secretly tough on the inside? Well, Matthew did tell Isabella he was the hockey team's captain in high school, and that does require a person to be quiet brutal with great amounts of stamina and not to mention the sort of build the player required in order to knock out another player.

Honestly, though, Isabella's pursed her lips, do men always act like animals in bed or are jocks the only ones who do? Mattie really likes to push my button before anything happens...... Kiku was always gentle... Okay! Scratch that, he also liked to tease me during sex... Isabella thought back to all the embarrassing things both the Canadian man and Japanese man made her do, while squeezing and poking at another pillow in her small hands.

Asking such perverted questions like 'does this make you feel good?' (Kiku). Or asking me what I want (Both). Or even making me do such, such, such embarrassing things! By now what Isabella was doing to the poor pillow in her hands could only be considered as abuse. At least he didn't make me plead t- Que Diablos!

The naked Mexican woman's grip tightened on the pillow before burying her face in its abused whiteness. The color not only contradicted with her usual skin tone but also with the light red tint decorating her face. She had broken off mid-thought from her near-explicit rant when realization of what she was exactly doing hit her.

D-Did I really just compare how I've had sex between two men?!

She felt the heat on her face intensify and her hears muted by the sound of her rapid heart beat, no doubt from the shame she felt. Not just any men, but my husbands?! Have I no shame?

Thankfully, Isabella wouldn't have to think about the subject for much longer as she heard the faint sound of a phone vibrating. "That's weird," Isabella said to herself as she searched through the sea of pillows, "I thought I had my phone on sound."

Once she upturned the last pillow near her, just in time for the vibrating to stop, she found the small electronic communication with its black touchscreen and unperturbed surroundings. Isabella took the device and pressed its home button to turn it on which revealed that she had no missed calls or messages. So it wasn't my phone, she stated. Is it Mattie's? No. He keeps it on mute in order to not receive any "unappreciated" phone calls. Hmm..

Isabella released an annoyed huff and leaned back, the thought of a certain red-head calling her husband so early in the morning was something she knew the young woman wouldn't pass behind her. However, the Mexican woman dismissed her suspicions once she heard the vibrating again, this time it sounded like it was coming from the left of where she was sitting.

Her brows knit together in slight confusion as to why she was hearing the sound of a phone to her left, but gradually relaxed when she began to remember, then firm scowl was placed on her face. There was only one person who would dare call her on her old phone, and the thought of them doing so only made her angrier as she pulled open the last drawer of her nightstand to retrieve a slightly older-looking device than her current one. No doubt, it was vibrating.

Without even looking at the caller's ID she picked up the phone.

"I know why you're calling, Yao," Isabella dropped the family formalities and cut to the chase. After all, she's had this conversation with her Chinese relative for more than six years and she wasn't about to budge from where she stood in the argument," And you already know that I will not change my mind. We've been arguing about this since Arthur was twelve and I've told you over a hundred times already, no. Arthur can decide what he wants to do with his future without anyone telling him otherwise," her voice came out sounding calm and unwavering as if she was firmly talking to another stubborn client.

"..." the other end stayed silent and Isabella felt that it was time to hang up until, "Hello, Isabella. It's been awhile," was heard on the other end.

"... T-Thai?" The Mexican let out an involuntary squawk as the voice of the person slowly traveled through her ears. She felt her blood rush to ears first before rushing back down to her face and body, making Isabella look like the very definition of flush," S-Sorry," she stuttered out after composing herself,"I-I didn't look at the caller ID before answering..." She pulled the phone away in order to look at the ID and was surprised to see "Yao Wang" across its screen.

"Haha," Isabella heard Thai chuckle at the same time she set the phone back on her ear,"You haven't changed," Isabella stayed quiet as she heard the Thailandese's soft, deep laugh. It reverbated through her ears like some sort of melodic hum that pulled at her heart's strings by just listening to it. And it did just that. Why? Why did his voice remind of her of his? Their voices will always be distinctly different from each others, yet she couldn't help but think that the softness laced with deepness was so oddly familiar.

"So, w-why are you calling with Yao's phone?" Isabella was hesitant to ask but she did with a surprisingly dry throat.

The other line was quiet for a few seconds before Isabella heard, what she thought, was a dissatisfied sigh,"Yao wanted to call you, but he insisted that I answer instead... I see why," He let out an airy chuckle making the Mexican's face practically glowed red.

"Sorry," She croaked and coughed in order to cover the horrible sound of her voice.

"You don't need to apologize. Yao shouldn't be pressing on about Arthur taking over the company," Isabella swore she could see Thai taking off his glasses while shaking his head, then pinching the bridge of his nose before putting on the red, rectangles back on,"Also, about why I called,"not trusting the sound of her voice, Isabella just hummed in acknowledgement,"You won't be able to come to the house in England for a while. There was a flood a while back and the yard and patio are submerged in water."

"Oh, I see. Thank you, Thai." The Mexican tried to hide her dejection of not being able to return to her Japanese style house in England with Arthur this coming November. She also didn't have the heart to tell Arthur their trip would have to be pushed back.

Isabella was about to end their conversation with a farewell, when," Isabella," Thai called out in what sounded like a desperate plea, making Isabella's muscles tense. She never liked hearing him sound like that, in honesty whenever he sounded desperate it frightened her. Thankfully, Thai's voice went back to normal before speaking again,"I am... always here when you need me."

"...Thai..." A lump formed in the back of the Mexican's throat before saying goodbye and hanging up. It wasn't a sad lump but a guilty lump that was stuck in her throat. A lump that reminded her of her strange relationship with the Thailandese man.

She forcefully swallowed the lump then put the cellphone back in the drawer. Everything from that point on seemed to be too quiet for the Mexican woman. And it was indeed too quiet inside the William-Jones' house, however, it wasn't the comfortable silence that 3/4 of the family members appreciated. In fact, it was the kind of queer silence, so surreal yet expected in the plot of a movie where a particular character is supposed to overhear bits and pieces of a conversation from another room, and make false assumptions from the bits.

Another room such as the hallway outside the room.

A particular character such as the husband.

And a conversation involving another man.

It's not suspicious at all, right?

 


	9. What great friends, right?

"Well... I will admit you've made an interesting story. It has a genre that is very widely read and such. However, regarding your plot and overall story it was... dull," the harsh words came out of the mouth of none other than the sweet Canadian known as Matthew Williams, and were directed to the overly nervous French student, Francis Bonnefoy.

"D-Dull?" An astonished Francis stuttered, he tried to make his voice come out as even as possible. He knew, there was no use crying over such a comment coming from the Canadian. After all, the path to being a writer was a hard one filled with struggles and rejections from people even higher than Matthew Jones. In the end, only emotionally strong survived from So now would be a good time to toughen his outer skin, even if he was practically destroying the ruffled hanky in his hands.

With a nod, the Canadian continued," It's too... how should I say... expected, seen before. You can obviously tell that the protagonist, one who has never really loved anyone before, is going to fall in love with the specific male you introduce, although I do like your choice of words used to describe the character. And your choice of locations and activities can be related to everyone and I'm sure a lot of readers would fall in love with the personality of the characters." Matthew mused after going over his red-written notes that were located all over the manuscript the French boy had given him.

"Then why did you say the story was dull?" Francis, with a hint of frustration in his voice, asked.

Matthew sighed. He scratched his head, careful not to hit his curl or undo his current low-pony tail. It was time like these that Matthew really hated his job; well, technically his old job. The Canadian started out volunteering at the publishing company at age sixteen for his mandatory volunteer hours in high school; delivering mail or getting snacks for the employees. The company workers liked his diligence that they offered him work during the weekends; delivering mail throughout the entire building, which he gladly accepted and worked even during college. And though, his main objective was to become a writer, he and the company found out that Matthew had a real knack for editing, much to his great dismay. Having never liked correcting papers even in high school, Matthew was torn between accepting an opportunity to earn more money plus having a third of his tuition paid for, and his dream to be a writer. He chose the more beneficial one, which did turn out to be more beneficial in the end. The Canadian worked with many writers that would always give him advice on writing and also the head publisher of the company, who would later recommend Matthew for a spot in the publishing branch after seeing how much talent the young man could contribute. Publishing was easy only when the writer wasn't involved.

Right now though, he was working with a child. A child who had talent as far as Matthew could tell, but his talent was being suppressed by something every author suffers from, consumerism," What made you want to write this type of story?" Matthew asked as a start.

Francis was quite confused with the question," 'What'.... I guess.... because the majority of readers like a plot with a female protagonist overcoming some type of problem and finding love along the way," He answered truthfully and proudly as he had done research about what types of stories are the most likely to sell on the internet from credited sights.

So that's it, Matthew sighed again,"Francis... As a former publisher I know how important it is for stories to sell in order for anyone to make a profit," he said while flipping through the pages of the story," But, as an author I can't predict the future and I honestly don't give a damn. Like many other authors, I write what I want to write without having to think of the public, yet. Not until your editor comes to harp on you about the "feelings of your fans," and- I'm sorry is this making any sense?" The Canadian stopped from his explanation once he noticed the French boy's furrowed brows.

"Not... completely..." Francis answered.

"Right, sorry," Matthew apologized and offered the perplexed boy a half-smile," Basically, what's your motivation? This story, although good, lacks all types of motivation from you, the author. I know you can be a great author, but I want you to start to write about whatever it is that interest or fascinates you, really interests and fascinates you, not how much popularity your book will gain. That's the only way you'll be able to create a best selling story. Do you understand?" He cocked a thin blonde eyebrow with a small tilt of his head.

Francis stayed quiet, it was abnormal because he always had something to say. Ticks from the cheap room clock passed filled the room uncomfortably until the French boy's mouth opened, but was cut short when a strange tune from Matthew's phone vibrated on the table.

Matthew looked at the caller's ID and gave Francis an apologetic smile before saying," Sorry, I have to take this." Francis gave a rigid nod of his head before standing up to leave the room, quietly.

With a sigh, Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose, I hope I didn't hurt his feelings too much. His attention was brought back to his vibrating, singing phone," Hello? Who is this?" He answered through the phone.

"Birdie, it's me." The voice on the end replied.

"G-Gil?!"

~

With a distraught expression, Francis leaned on the wall with his shoulders slumped. Make a story that interests me... In most cases, the French boy's imagination would be soaring with so many possible scenarios of possible book plots, so much emotion and actions would be filled in each page and action! But now... his mind was blank. Maybe it was the stress of being a senior that made him more vulnerable and abject to the rejection. Besides he still had to fill out application for colleges, scholarships, e-portfolios, recommendations, service-hours, love trou- Shit! I have to stop freaking myself out!

"Francis? Are you okay? What are you doing out here?" The concerned voice of his best friend's mother caught him off guard as he found himself banging the wall with his head, causing the Mexican woman to jump back.

He let out a quiet whimper before he felt a hand that was not his own rub at the spot where he had supposedly hit the wall, "I'm... fine." He managed to get out before moving away from the hand and cream-colored wall.

Isabella gave him a disbelieving look but knowing teenagers, she knew pressuring them wouldn't make them talk, "Right... Now, what are you doing out here? Did Matthew make you upset again?" She tilted her head causing her braids to sway with her movements then smiled as she added," I'll take care of him if he did," Francis wondered how," I'll make him sleep on the couch!" She answered his unspoken question with another smile.

Francis cracked a small smile at the short woman's attempt to cheer him up," Um... No, he didn't," he answered though his voice did crack a bit as if he was upset causing Isabella to question him again," He really didn't. It's just... I'm not sure how to meet his expectations."

"Expectations?" Isabella was quiet dumbfounded at his choice of words.

"No, it might not have been the best connotation. What I mean is that I don't know what to do in order to create a great story like him or any of the other best selling authors out there." He sighed, hoping his words were making sense to Isabella.

Maybe it was because she was a former member of the Wang-Ho Publishing's top family that helped her develop the ability to read-between-the-lines of almost every potential worker (or that she had been feeling uneasy about her two sons); or the fact that she was married to a publisher turned author, who would often baffle incoherent words and sentences when a deadline was concerned, that Isabella could somehow sum up Francis' words as," Oh, so your lacking inspiration?"

Isabella didn't even wait for the stunned French boy to even nod before she told her own version of what she hoped was Matthew's speech to him, "You know Francis, inspiration originates from interest. So what interests you? Paris? Flowers? Fashions? Girls? It doesn't have to be a hobby or an inanimate object. It can be people or certain situation that happen frequently or not at all. For example, think of the relationship between a cop and criminal? What would happen if their roles switched like in Stephen King's book? Or J.K. Rowling's story about the magical world of Hogwarts?"

Francis was listening intently to the Mexican's explanation. He could somehow feel his imagination start to play with the suggestions being thrown at him like a magical criminal falling for a supermodel cop in an institution in Paris.

... Honestly, the idea felt silly even to him.

He was about to lose all hope again when," Or you can find a muse," Francis jerked his head at the curious, new word and with a questioning look that made Isabella explain, "To be frank, a muse is the person or persons that serve as the source of inspirations towards artists. Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa portrait would be a perfect example or," the Mexican woman unintentionally blushed at her next comparison," when Matthew made that book about us." She stayed quiet with a dreamy expression on her face until Francis cleared his throat, "Anyway," she coughed," using other people, within ethical means, can also be a source of inspiration and interest."

"I see..." Francis mumbled as he thought long and hard about what he had just been told. A muse? A muse? A muse? There were many people that caught his interest but how to choose one? Hmm... He began to walk away as he continued to think.

Isabella huffed at not being thanked properly, but just shook her head with a smile. Seeing Francis-- the once smiley girly-boy that played tea-time with an equally girly-looking Arthur and a begrudging Alfred-- now with a masculine face with a bit of stubble under his chin, a height that almost reached Matthew's own, and stressing about the littlest thing served as a painful reminder to the Mexican that her own boys were also growing up and becoming more aware of things around them.

Becoming aware... of what exactly?

~

"..."

"..."

Had been the conversation between the two blond stepbrothers after the arrival of Francis into their home. If it were any other day, Arthur would have taken this rare opportunity to read a novel or work on his flowerbed outdoors. However, after seeing the state his little brother was in now, sitting on the floor, slouching, with a fort made entirely out of blankets and a pillow on the floor while having his eyes glued to the screen of an infomercial on the best insurance around, was just too unsettling to let it go on.

"... Uh... Alfred..." Arthur tried for the sixth time to call for his younger sibling's attention.

And like the sixth time,"...What?" He responded, not rudely but not polite either, as his bespectacled eyes flickered to his older sibling.

Alfred hadn't been in the best mood since waking up that Friday morning and all throughout the day; though he was able to hide it until practice (he used his teammates to blow off some of his sulkiness). Of course, he knew it was because of Francis's expected visit to their house that day. He never liked the Frenchman in the first place; even when he was little, Alfred viewed Francis as a stuck up, arrogant, girly, crybaby who took up all of Arthur's time.

Arthur flinched as he noticed Alfred's gaze finally on him; it was something he had been trying to accomplish but was instantly regretting. His brother's blue eyes, which normally were full of joy and life, were hard and angry. Why was he angry, though? Did something happen during practice? Did someone comment on his weight again? Alfred couldn't possibly be mad at him, right? He hadn't done anything, right?

"... What's wrong?" He asked with furrowed brows and green eyes directed at the younger male.

Alfred waited a few seconds, his eyes moving away from his brother's concerned look at back at the infomercial. Then he muttered something.

"What did you say?"

He muttered again, a little louder than before.

"What?"

"I said nothing! Nothing's wrong!" He snapped, causing some of the pillows to fall and the blanket to shift. He kept his eyes on the TV.

In most instances, when a brother and/or sister talks back in a disrespectful manner to their brother and/or sister; a nasty verbal, rarely physical, fight will ensue between the two. However, because of Arthur and Alfred's... unique circumstances; never have they ever had more than a playful banter.

That was why Arthur was currently silent. His eyes had widened and mouth was gaping like a fish out of water; but he did not flounder like a fish and instead stayed very still. What exactly was he supposed to do in this kind of situation?

Another long moment passed before Arthur finally came up with something," I'm going downstairs to get something to drink... I'll be back." He said before leaving a sulking American alone watching some strange Spanish soap opera.

~

Arthur walked absentmindedly down the stairs. He was far too preoccupied trying to figure out Alfred's odd mood; also he was holding onto the railing, so he didn't need to worry about falling.

Did something happen at school? No, he wasn't in such a foul mood this morning. Did he not have enough eat? The Brit's eyelids lowered over his worried-filled eyes. He conjured up almost every possible, and slightly ridiculous, answer possible. Are the fairies playing tricks with his dol-- action figures? I'm going to have to have a chat with them later. Did FMB eat from his secret stash? Did the trolls leave my por-

His over-thinking ended by the sudden sensation of almost tripping off the stairs and landing painfully on the floor. Almost. Luckily, he had a good grip on the wood railing and didn't have to go through that unpleasant scenario. Arthur's panicked eyes, frantically searched for the thing that almost tripped him.

Sadly, he was greeted by the unpleasant scene of a depressed Francis also known as the things he almost tripped on. Francis sat on the foot of stairs. His legs spread to rest his elbows on his thighs and his posture crouched with a dreadful expression on his (self-proclaimed) beautiful face.

"... Francis?"

"Oui, it is I, Mon cher." The depressed looking thing answered while turning to look at the startled Brit.

"... Is something wrong?" He dared ask and hoped the response was nothing like Alfred's.

Francis patted the space next to him weakly," Sit. I'll tell you."

Something's so weird about today. Arthur noted before righting himself up and releasing the wood from his death grip. Hesitantly, he walked over to his left side of the stairs and sat his bum down on the step next to the dejected Francis,"So..."

"My life... IS OVER!" He wailed with arms failing in the air for a good two seconds before wrapping themselves around his friend; practically squishing their bodies together.

I should have known it'd be an idiotic reason. Arthur rolled his eyes at Francis exaggerated outburst, that would definitely not come true. He's always been like this, he thought before pushing Francis face away from his.

"Get away from me, you idiot! I can smell your cheap cologne!"

"Ah! You're so mean! Here I am pouring my heart out to you, and you insult me! What kind of a friend are you?!" He refused to let go.

"The kind that can't tolerate your drama. Now let go!"

And so, their fun little tussle lasted until Francis got tired of fighting and finally let go. Though, he was upset at his friend's lack of love towards him, Francis noticed he was feeling a lot better than before. He laughed at the realization and ran a hand through his mussed up hair, trying to comb it with his fingers.

"... Thank you."

The smaller blond that was currently smoothing out the wrinkles of his gray shirt, stopped his actions, took a brief glance at the Frenchman, looked away, and continued with his current actions," I don't know what you're talking about." He stated.

The French man let out a heartfelt laugh. Ever the contrary person, Arthur.

With nothing else to say to the other, both friends let a comfortable silence sweep over them; broken only when the other had something worth mentioning. Their silent moment didn't last very long. It was Francis' who broke their peaceful agreement when it donned on him that Arthur seemed distracted when walking down the stairs. If not, then how come he didn't notice the dejected French boy sitting on the steps?

" Is something worrying you, mon cher?" He asked with the full intention of helping out the friend that cheered him up from his self-wallowing.

Hesitant at first, Arthur told Francis about what happened upstairs, about Alfred's bad mood, and his plausible theories," I just don't know what's gotten Alfred so riled up," he sighed glumly with his knees up to his chest," and I want to know in order to help him through it."

Oh, that makes two of us, mon ami! A belated French man cheered inside himself.

While listening attentively to Arthur's stories and ruling out the imaginary theories, Francis, being the genius that he is, quickly came up with two highly probable causes. 1) The young American was going through his delayed post-rebellion phase; however, he has yet to see the American teen fight with someone other than his brother. 2) He was jealous. And though the first seemed more likely than the second, his mind kept hovering over the second.

Jealous? Alfred jealous? I can hardly imagine it. Francis rubbed his furry chin, pondering over his second guess. True, it was hard picturing the American boy as someone who would get jealous. This is Alfred we're talking about, sweet, loveable, naive Alfred. Alfred, the boy whose only intimidating feature was his physique during football games. Alfred was a friend to almost everybody in the Academy. Alfred, the younger brother of the student body president. Alfred, the one who's aspiration is to be the Hero of our time. How can anyone think that kind of person, could ever hold such feelings of animosity and desirous over anyone or anything? It's simply not possible, right?

Wait. Hold on a minute. The wavy-blond pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his tightly, trying to recall something that had flashed through his mind. I think... I'm sure I have seen him like that before. His thoughts traveled from the time he was petit garcon to a handsome homme. And true to his words, he has seen the American boy act like so. Long ago, he was a very young boy throwing tantrums by stomping on the ground and crying uncontrollably around the house. Later when he became a slightly bigger boy, no longer allowed to throw tantrums, pouting in his older brother's room as Francis and Arthur attempted to finish their science project. And the look he shot him just a few days earlier.

I wonder... He noted as a small, visible smile crept at the edges of his mouth.

"Maybe I'm just a failure as an older brother," Arthur suddenly declared with a tiny, unnoticeable quiver in his voice.

Arthur's declaration broke through Francis' working mind; making him remember that he was currently trying to help his British friend. In a panic, Francis tried to come up with some sort of reliable explanation.

"Ohonhonhon. You're not a failure, Arthur," He said, trying speak in his usual cocky tone without panic," I'm sure Alfred is just going through a rebellious phase. So he won't talk to anyone who he thinks has more power over him or will go against his decisions. You've been through it before; remember? It will pass, you know it will."

When Arthur didn't respond, Francis' took that as the British boy considering the possibility (one he surely didn't think of himself). Another second passed before Arthur inhaled though his nose and exhaled the same way. He let his legs drop from his chest to the floor and stood up; Francis mimicked his movements.

After another long second, he mumbled, "I suppose."

Francis practically celebrated inside himself; knowing that was Arthur's strange way of saying," you're right," to the Frenchman. It was rare for Arthur to agree with someone elses judgment than his own.

Feeling like he just dodged a bullet, a very deadly bullet, and that he might have the upper hand for once; the Frenchman wanted to see how far he could go with the idea that just occurred to him. Taking a deep breath, Francis cleared any "dirty" thoughts from his scheming brain and put on his most sincere face; then he cleared his throat to get the Brit's attention.

"Mon ami," he began then closed his eyes as if he was contemplating something in that very moment, and would continue when he decided on the answer, "would you like me to talk him? I might be able to help. Since, I am not part of this family so the possibility of being seen as superior to him is highly unlikely," He noticed the way Arthur's eyes moved right (no) and left (yes); they moved more to the left.

He knew just what to do, "And if he opens up to me, and I'm positive he will, I could ask him if something else is bothering him. How does that sound?" He asked with a smile so smug, you could tell he was lying. But Arthur was far more preoccupied about Alfred to notice; so in the end, he gave in.

"Don't harass him, but make sure to tell me everything he tells you," Arthur gave Francis a warning look.

Francis made a gesture with his arms and brought them close to his heart; one hand on top of the air," Oh, you hurt me so! But don't worry, I promise," to not harass him.

With the agreement made, Arthur decided to stay downstairs while Francis, care not to show his enthusiasm by running up the stairs, held onto the rail and gallantly climbed the stairs.

I think I might have just found a muse!

~

When Francis arrived upstairs and outside the American's room (he had insisted they use his room instead of Arthur's), he had to compose himself yet again. He exhaled to calm his schoolgirl jitters and the thought that he was actually going to go through with this, it felt so exciting! Finally, he was calm enough.

Knock. Knock

"May I come in?" He asked after stepping through the door and into the room.

"You're already in." Alfred grumbled and didn't even attempt to hide his annoyance; well, it wasn't like he would anyway because he was talking to Francis after all.

Francis pretended he didn't hear the malice directed towards him and decided to sit down on the bed a good distance from the American. He had decided before hand that he wasn't going to be the one to initiate the conversation. After all, he was going by pure speculation with no real evidence proving his claim on the real problem the American boy was having. Plus he was not the author, yet, so he would just stay on the sideline, be a side character, and watch where the "plot" was going; but that didn't mean he couldn't offer his services from time to time.

By now, Alfred had become increasingly irritated with the Frenchman's (unwanted) presence. Even though, he said to himself that he would ignore the annoying guy and continue watching... whatever the hell he was watching! However, it proved to be possible when he realized that with only Francis and himself in the room, his mood was becoming worse; for example, being able to list what he disliked about the guy:

His perfume smells gross.

Gah! Now I have to wash my sheets!

He's breathing to loud.

Neither uttered a word until Alfred just couldn't take it anymore. Throwing his arms up in air, causing his fort to tumble," What do you want!" He demanded. Hoping he scared the shit out of Francis.

However, Francis seemed unfazed by the outburst, which upset the American. On the contrary his blue eyes, no similar to his, brightened for a fraction of a second," I want to know why you are so... indignant, today?"

"I'm not indigant!"

"It's 'indignant' and you are."

"I'm not!"

"You are."

"I'm not!"

"You are."

"I am not!"

Francis rolled his eyes," So says the boy who unnerved his older brother. Don't you think it's funny that Moi is here, asking you what's wrong, instead of Arthur?"

"Arthur's upset?" Alfred only registered that part of Francis' sentence and it made his anger drop a notch.

"Again, why do you think I'm here when Arthur is not?"

"Yeah, yeah, you're here now, but I upset Arthur?" Alfred repeated, becoming stiff and prodding more on his older brother being upset than the subject at hand.

Francis cocked an eyebrow in question but answered,"Oui, he was very upset, but don't worry I told him it was just a teen stage you had to outgrow."

Alfred's posture relaxed and exhaled a breath he didn't even know he was holding. This just made Francis' questioning look turn into one of understanding and then one of mischief. It's now or never.

"However," he spoke again, making Alfred tense, "I only told him so to relieve him of any unsettling thoughts," Alfred looked at him, not sure what he was getting at," Personally, I don't think that's the issue at all."

He looked up and to see if the American was listening, and he was confirmed that he was he continued," No, I believe the issue is something more than meets the general eye. It takes a special kind of eye to notice, discuss, and proclaim what is going on with you. And luckily for you, I have that eye."

"Yeah, yeah, can you just get to the point?"

The Frenchman sniffed at the art-lacking hooligan, but continued," Fine. Dear Alfred, would you mind telling me how you feel about me?" Francis held a hand out to Alfred as his other clutched his heart.

"I dislike you, like a lot." He said deadpanned without a moments hesitation, and he didn't feel guilty about it either.

Although, he saw it coming, Francis still faltered but regained himself," Right. You see, I've always known you had a certain dislike for me since childhood. Every time I came over to play you would throw the worst tantrums while crying out Arthur's name and played the nastiest of tricks on me such as putting gum in my hair,"

Alfred coughed away a laugh at the mention of his old shenanigans.

"As we got older, you repeatedly made me look like a villain in front of your brother, making it look as if I did something to you like breaking your toys or teaching you cuss words. Compared to now however, I quite miss those tricks. You're actions slowly turned into intimidating threats, every now and then I feel as if I am being beat up by you whenever I catch a glare or change of tone like a few minutes ago. But after I put the pieces together it all made sense! I am telling you that I know your childishness is a stage that we all go through once or several times in life- do you understand me?" Francis gave the boy a few minutes to process what he just said.

"So you don't think I'm acting like a brat?" Alfred guessed.

"No you are acting like a brat, a special kind of brat. A brat that is going through an awkward and confusing stage in life for the first and has no idea what he or she is doing. You are going through something called jealousy!" Francis opened his arms to be applauded if not rewarded.

"What? I don't get it?" The American massaged his aching head. He was glad the Frenchie's speech was over.

"That you are in love with Arthur."

~

At the moment, Arthur was helping Isabella in the kitchen. He was only setting up the table though while his mum took care of the actual cooking.

Neither of them had engaged in conversation since coincidentally meeting up in the small foyer between the kitchen and the living room. Both were mildly surprised and Arthur had asked, before Isabella got a chance to ask why he was downstairs, if he could be of any help to her for preparing dinner. His mum gave him a blank stare before realization hit her and she gave a quick nod.

Though he raised a large eyebrow in question, he decided not to comment. Arthur already had a good idea what it might possibly be and its name rhymed with Bashling. However, the way his mum was acting right now felt off. Reason number one being the usually talkative Mexican had not engaged in conversation.

Currently, Isabella's mind was in turmoil.

After leaving the corridor outside Matthew's study with Francis, Isabella had gone back. She wanted to find out why Matthew had let Francis go so early. The Mexican waited outside, her fist poised to knock on the door, when... She heard mumbling. Being the civil adult she is (as both a mother and working grown-up) Isabella knew that eavesdropping was wrong on so many levels; she certainly didn't want her boys to take up that sort of habit. But since there was no one looking at her, she made an exception.

Carefully, she leaned on the door and it creaked. Her jumped, but thankfully Matthew was still talking (the mumbling says it all). Is he talking on his phone? She asked to no one before putting her ear on the door she closed her eyes to hone her senses into solely hearing.

Hearing the Canadian's voice only in the room, confirmed that he was indeed speaking with someone over the phone; but because the door was thick, Isabella could only pick out bits and pieces from the conversations.

"Yeah... Tomorrow... Can't wait... See you."

See who? Can't wait for what? There was a pause before his voice spoke again.

"Ashling..." It was the last thing the Mexican heard before she found herself bumping into Arthur who looked quiet disquiet.

"Mum. Mum!" Arthur's raised his voice slightly causing the Mexican woman to twitch and blink multiple times.

"Oh, um, yes Arthur?"

"... I think you cut the tomatoes into more than just bite size pieces." Isabella looked down at the pulverized red pieces, once plump round balls, on the cutting board.

"... Oops." She said then looked back at her, biting her lip. Arthur mimicked her expression.

Then a fit of giggles erupted in the kitchen, making the atmosphere in lighter than before. After both mother and son finished their silly moment they went back to their previous duties, but with a more relaxed expression than before.

"So," Arthur stopped what he was doing and slightly turned to see his mum with his back to him and opening a cabinet full of glass cups, " What are you doing down here, Arthur? Aren't Alfred and Francis upstairs?" Isabella asked, a little alert if Francis was not with them.

The Brit sighed, knowing it was a conversation that would have come up eventually, " Well," and like he told Francis, he told his mum what was happening with Alfred as well as his conversation with Francis and what he came up with. When he was finished telling his tale he inhaled and waited for his mum to give her thoughts.

As he waited, he noticed that his mum's expression looked almost thankful, her eyebrows also lowered slowly above her relaxed brown eyes. He wasn't sure he why she looked that way, but decided not to question it either. It might just be a mom thing. He reasoned.

" I agree with Francis," she said after registering all the information from Arthur's tale," Alfred is probably just going through a somewhat late rebellious phase." Isabella smiled.

"Are you sure mum?" Her son asked in a timorous tone while trying really hard to not look away from her gaze, he rubbed his pale arm for comfort, " I feel like... this isn't normal."

The Mexican moved closer to kiss her son on the cheek," Mhm! I'm sure. He is also my son after all. And if he is anything like his hermano here. Then I'm sure his rebellious phase will be anything but normal," She gave him a teasing smile," Must I remind you about your tongue ring?"

Arthur's pale cheeks turned an instant pink at the not so discrete mention of his punk years. A drawer full of skin tight clothing, cussing everywhere and to anyone, sneaking out of the house, getting a fake ID, flirting in bars, etc, etc, etc. Heck, he oractically wrote the "How To Be A Bad Boy" book.

Truth be told, he never once told his family, much less Alfred, about his hoodlum actions. He did everything in secret and (forcibly) made Francis into his lackey and somewhat accomplice. Of course, he did have a tendency to talk back when things didn't go his way and when he didn't one night about 5-6 years ago, the parents found out his dirty little secret.

All because of the shiny, metal piercing on his tongue that prevented him from talking coherently, much to their horror and Arthur's embarrassment.

When Isabella noticed Arthur coming back from memory lane, the pink tint gradually disappearing, she spoke from her spot in the fridge, "Can you go get the mail?" She pulled out a pitcher half-full of pink liquid. Arthur nodded before he left.

It's probably just a phase. Isabella contently smiled while pouring the liquid into three long glasses. So there's nothing to worry about. Though her heart seemed to jolt as if telling,"That isn't true, and you know it."

She faltered a step but went on to retrieve a tray from the bottom cupboard, it was a plastic tray, old and worn, but she didn't have the heart to throw it away, also Isabella really liked the cartoonish drawing of apples trees on it.

"Mum, there's a letter for you," Arthur announced when he came back inside the house.

"Put them on the table, in here," Isabella replied from the kitchen.

Arthur did as he was instructed and set the thin stack on the set-up table. After he did so, Isabella held out a tray with the three long glasses of lemonade on top. Arthur cocked an eyebrow but took the tray anyway.

"Didn't you say you were getting a drink? Plus, they might be thirsty after talking so much." The Mexican winked at him and with that she shooed her son upstairs.

She waited until the Brit was out sight to let out a heavy sigh. Now what should I do? Isabella realized after being alone with very persistent (and unwelcome) thoughts.

Ungracefully, she flopped on a chair around the dinning table and ran a tanned hand through her curly hair. Her eyes slowly trailed over the ready-made table until they rested on the clashing bundle of envelopes. Arthur did say there was one for me... Isabella reached for the pile and searched for the one that had her name on it. Once she found it, she was surprised to see it wasn't a credit card advertisements or threat mail from a crazed M. Jones fan. Instead it was a very small, thin envelope that looked more like an invitation than actual letter.

Though she hesitated, Isabella got the feeling that it was something to look forward to. So she opened it. But before reading what was written, Isabella skipped to the signature, where she gasped.

"E-Elizabeta?"

~

"You're joking right?" He was too stunned by the ridiculous joke (God, he hoped it was a joke!) to say anything.

"Non, I am not joking."

The American's face morphed into one of disgust," You're sick!" He shouted, "I don't love my brother that way!"

"Oh, so you say." The Frenchman leered.

"Of course, I say!"

"You know when given the same question, most people agree that they love their siblings, because they think it means family love. You automatically thought it meant partnership love." He fibbed.

"Yeah, well, most people don't have a Francis." The American countered.

"True, true," said Frenchman nodded then smirked," But many people can see the obvious sexual tension between you two."

"Sexual tension?" Alfred tilted his head to the side, "like we fight for the attention of a female?"

Oh, you poor boy. Arthur definitely has you sheltered. Francis cupped his own cheek in pity.

"I don't want Arthur to kill me, but we won't get anywhere if I don't tell you," He sighed and looked at the American straight in the eyes," It's when you feel desire boiling in your lower and upper extremities. When you get turned on."

"T-Turned on!?" He hollered. His mind quickly took him back when he had accidentally felt his brother's neck, his soft hair, his light body... his scen-

No! No! "No! Now way! Fuck no! N-O!" Alfred's firmly denied, though his cheeks blossomed in color.

What an amusing reaction.

"What are you imagining, Alfred?" Francis innocently asked before deciding to tease the boy, "Arthur won't be with you forever. He has a future waiting for him that does not intertwine with yours. If you don't want to go through that reality of loneliness then," he paused before smiling," mate like bunnies and claim like wolves." he happily exclaimed.

Any hold he previously had on the American broke.

"Hah! Fat chance!" Alfred, no longer pink in the face, scoffed at Francis's absurd hypothesis. But, seriously!? In love?! With Arthur?! His own brother?! There was just no way that was true!

His heart continued to thump uncomfortably in his chest.

Francis rolled his eyes, somewhat annoyed how the boy in front of him can be so dense. "Then kindly explain why you look so flustered, Mister Jones." Francis answered nonchalantly. Alfred turned to look at the Frenchman incredulously.

"Wha—I'm not flustered!!" He fought back coarsely, rejecting the whole 'being in love with my own brother' ordeal.

"Your body's language is oh so convincing, mon ami." Francis countered.

"Shut up, Frenchie!" Alfred looked away, cross at the Frenchman for making his blood pump with tense ferocity. Francis just sighed knowingly and leaned back with his arms supporting his body. Alfred glanced once at the Frenchman and decided to dig around a bit.

"H-How did you even come up with the stupid theory of me being in love with my own brother anyway?" Francis turned to look at Alfred and broke into a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach with one hand. Alfred raised an eyebrow, silently questioning Francis' sanity.

Maybe he finally lost it? Alfred silently prayed that was the case.

"Ah, my dear Alfred. Can you not see the obviousness of your affection? You're very possessive of him, too. And you were also jealous when you saw me pinning him down a few days ago, no?" Francis managed to get a reaction out of Alfred. He turned red all over and found difficulty in forming sentences to prove the Frenchman wrong. Francis clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth a few times, shaking his head.

The boy's stubbornness was getting him nowhere. Well, why don't I up my game? He smirked.

"Would you mind if I take Arthur from you, then?" Francis asked slyly, a glint of something Alfred couldn't name in his eyes. With the threat, Alfred found himself regaining the ability to talk again.

"Hell no, man!! You touch an inch of my brother's body and I swear to the heavens above I will--"Alfred stopped himself before his words could advance any further. He looked towards the door and panicked silently. Could it be what Francis had said was true? Was he really..?

No. No he wasn't. It just couldn't! It shouldn't! He was wrong! The frustration was getting the better of him. Alfred could feel his stress levels rising. He needed to cool down, breath, and not listen to the pervert. Come on, man! This is Francey-pants Francis you're talking to! Even with these viable reassurances, his brain was having a hard time processing them.

He could feel a headache growing, coiling until it felt like tight knots wrapper around each other. His eyes closed in a useless attempt to minimize the pain. It hurts. Then came the familiar sensation of his head tearing itself in two, slowly, and with his hands firmly on his head, he tried to keep the pieces together. It really hurts. A few tears leaked from his eyes, pain clearly showed on his face.

Francis was too distracted with debating his next move to notice the distressed boy.

"Right, right, Alfred." Francis stood up and stretched, causing the American's eyes to snap open and focus on him.

He headed towards Alfred's bedroom door and waving to Alfred. Alfred's wet eyes widened in alarm. "But now, if you'll excuse me. I have an Englishman waiting for me down-"

"Who's waiting for you?" The talked about person asked as he stopped at the door; oblivious to the fight that had just been going on. Arthur carried a plastic tray, with three tall glasses of lemonade in his hands.

The once fighting blonds looked at his direction. The first, nervous, one to speak was Francis, "A-Arthur!" His voice pitched, but coughed it back to normal, "When did you get back up here?" He hoped, really truly hoped, that his friend hadn't heard a word from his and Alfred's civil discussion.

Arthur rolled his eyes, his full attention set on the Frenchman, "Literally just a second ago. Now tell me, who's waiting for you downstairs?" He asked again, a tad meaner. He better had kept his promise.

"No o-"

"Arthur!" Alfred cried and latched himself at the tray-carrying Brit," Tell me it's not true!" He cried some more; his face was becoming a mess of tear streaks.

Arthur shot a glare at Francis, really wanting to sock him for making the younger boy cry (because he was sure the French boy was the one who caused it), before focusing his sole attention on his younger brother," Woah, Alfred." He tried to unhook a the clinging American's painful grip by patting said male on the head with one hand while he balanced the tray in the other," Settle down and tells me what's wrong."

"F-Francis says he was going t-to take you away-" from me. He sputtered before finishing.

"Oh, did he now?" His voice was a little lower than usual and Francis swore the room's temperature rose a degree by the Brit's temper.I am not a possession to be claimed!

Francis shuddered at the look and knew that any words trying to defend himself would just be thrown away by the Brit.

The only noises resounding in the room were Alfred's whimpers and Flo from the progressive commercial. Francis was about to take his leave when Arthur, very sweetly said," Alfred, love, would you mind holding this tray for me?"

F-Fuck! He used "love". Francis tensed and immediately knew what was going to happen as the British boy made his way towards him," N-Now, Arth-" He was silenced by a swift punch in the gut.

"Uh-huh." Alfred blushed too preoccupied of his brother's strange use of the word, to notice the sounds of a brawl currently happening behind him.

~

The sun was just above the horizon, meaning the people around the neighborhood were dinner. So, Francis didn't have to worry about being seen wearing a wrinkled uniform, blonde locks in disarray, a lemonade stain on his pants (making look like he wet himself), and a delightful bruise on his lower jaw a courtesy from Arthur. He learned a lesson today; taunt Alfred only when you're absolutely sure Arthur is not around and won't magically pop out of nowhere.

You could say that what the Frenchman was about to do was practically a suicide mission. Was his life really worth giving up, just to write his story on two people who may not even end up together?... Of course, it was! After all, we only live once; might as well make the most of it. And he was planning too while also offering his assistance to "help" a dear friend's important little brother.

"Ohonhonhon! I can't wait to see where this is going!" He smiled and with a skip in his step walked home.


	10. There are boundaries, right?

"I mean he was cute and all, but I turned him down." A very talkative student council member and cheerleader, Michelle described her latest dilema to the friend she was currently shopping with. It was a decent Saturday afternoon in October because the weather had yet to go from neutral to freezing cold.

"Uh-huh."

"It's not that I don't like him. It's just that I'm waiting for Alfred to ask me to the party."

"Uh-huh."

"Cause I think he's cute, you know?"

"Uh-huh."

Michelle stopped a little ways away from the nearest clearance store; its red and yellow discount tags intriguing many other civilians. The dark-haired, dark-skinned highschooler placed her shellac manicured hands on her hips. A scowl made it's way on her sparkle-caked lips and a crease began to fold on her forehead as she stared at her texting American friend, who had also stopped walking.

"And I like him."

"Uh-huh."

"I wouldn't mind banging him."

"Uh-huh."

"Or having his child."

"Uh-huh."

"Or multiple children with him. In fact, I like him so much that I wouldn't mind him cheating on me with a slut and having to support him, myself, our children, and our dog for the rest of my life while he sits on the couch eating chips all day!" Her nails dug at trills of her white-green skirt and her brown eyes grew harder as they stared at the tall, blonde girl. Daring her to answer in the same absent-minded way as before. If she does, then she will unleash her wrath.

"Uh-huh." Amelia responded, too busy with her electronic device to really pay attention. Well, before she was smacked upside the head, "OW! What the heck!" She yelled and rubbed the sore spot with her free hand while the other tightly clutched the cellphone that let out a chime.

"What the heck? We finally get the weekend off from our tyrant President, not have to deal with Francis, and go shopping together, so we can finally--finally-- have some girl talk and all you do is just play with your phone?! So 'what the heck' is with you?" Michelle glared with piercing brown eyes.

Amelia shot her a glare too, "I wasn't playing with my phone! I was texting someone!" She exclaimed as she still rubbed her blonde head.

"Who a guy?" Michelle asked, no longer angry at her blonde friend but intrigued about the person she was texting. Since, Amelia never seemed interested in "love" topics at school, much less the boys (who clearly had an interest in the American).

The blonde, blue-eyed girl shook her head, "Nope," she popped the 'p' in the word, "my cousin!" A childish grin spread across her face filling her eyes with excitement as she eagerly typed a response and sent it.

"A guy?"

"Girl." She received another message and typed another response.

The Islander wrinkled her nose,"Why would you be excited about texting a member of your family?" Michelle didn't want to sound to rude, but honestly, what could be so interesting about talking to a FEMALE cousin. She-- the Islander-- barely talked to her own relatives.

However, Amelia did seem offended by her words as she shot her friend a look, "For starters, she lives in another country, England. Secondly, she was the one who made me this!" Excitedly, she took off one of the red hair clips from her hair and held it in her palm.

It took Michelle a little to realize Amelia wanted her to study the cheap plastic hair accessory that was always in the American's hair. She scowled at her friend, but nevertheless obliged to her whims and reached for it. However, before she even managed to touch the red clip, her hand was slapped away by the American's; clearly enforcing the "look but don't touch" rule. Rolling her eyes, Michelle bent down to look at it instead. To her surprise the cheap plastic thing looked like it had been well taken care of. How unusual, considering how sloppy her American friend was. There were no smudges or scratches on its shining red surface. It's okay I guess, the Islander thought considering its big size and miniscule indentation in the front. Amelia brought the clip closer to Michelle's face, urging her to look for something she had missed. Now, it was the Islander's turn to shoot a look, but huffed and looked closer.

The color does look nicer... She pursed her lips... Oh, so that wasn't a dent, it was a part of it's a shape, a heart... Still, I don-- Wait! what are those? The Islander's grabbed her friends arm and jerked it forward in order to have a better look at the clip. To her surprise, she found that cheap plastic clip wasn't plastic, but rather metal. What kind? She didn't know and quite frankly didn't care. It had to metal, if not how could it hold that many gems?! True, the clip she had called cheap and gaudy was adorned by teeny-tiny rows of red, white, and blue rocks; invisible from a far distance but visible up close. It was amazing, she had to admit, how the clip was covered in the tiny things, yet somehow managed to stay true to the red color of the metal.

"A-Are they real?!" Michelle squeaked.

Amelia grinned, " You bet! She's really good at this kind of stuff! Plus she made this for me, specifically for me!" Her usual big-headed cockiness came back as she held the clip like a treat. Completely unaware she was offering said treat to a starving shark as she continued to blab about her cousin.

"Do you think she could make one for me!" The Islander said in a impetuous tone.

"Sur--What! No! " Amelia hollered and quickly regretted doing so, knowing Michelle was always up for a challenge.

The small Islander rose, arms folded on her chest, and trying to mimic the demon President's posture. Brown eyes shot daggers at the taller girl, "And why not?"

"I-It's costly!"

"So? I have enough saved up in my bank account."

"She makes what she wants. She doesn't listen to requests!"

"Has anyone ever complained about what she makes? Did you not like what she made?"

"No! No, but-"

Michelle crossed her arms, "Then I don't see why I can't ask for one?"

"Because--" Amelia was about to lie when a laugh, a very familiar sounding chuckle, caught her attention. Her head snapped to the direction of the other side where a bookstore, cafe, and flower shop were located. Blue eyes scanned over the many unfamiliar people beginning to appear in the late afternoon of a weekend. The majority made their way to the cafe for lunch, paying no mind to the fading green paint of it's exterior. It was there by the door, holding the door open like a true gentleman, she saw a familiar mop of light blonde hair and set of eyebrows on an almost alien-smiling face, " Is that... Is that Arthur?" She voiced loudly while also managing to catch the attention of her small friend.

Now, they both stared at the man on the other side of the street dressed in a navy-blue polo shirt over light-faded jeans, smiling as a middle-aged woman thanked him for holding the door open. He kept holding the door until a woman came out. The woman, they thought, looked attractive. She was a brunette with hair reaching a little past the shoulders of her long-neck red sweater over black jeans. And although they wanted to see her face, they couldn't as she had her back to them while she continued to walk and talk animatedly to a smiling, laughing Arthur.

Both girls had their jaws hanging open even after witnessing the pair rounding the corner of the flower shop and were gone. They received curious glances from fellow weekenders before their brains slowly connected the dots. No wonder Arthur had given them the day off! He was on a date! And if they ever wanted another free day in the future, then it was better for them to keep their mouths shut! Or so Amelia told (threatened) Michelle.

~

Matthew checked his watch, 12:47 it read. He loosened his tie and drummed his fingers on the bar's wooden surface. There were a few other customers inside the bar so he needn't feel odd for being in one this early in the morning. But, they all had a companion, romantic or not, and ate a big, juicy, mouth watering, delicious club sandwich, a speciality at the bar he was in, "....Maybe I'll order something while I wait..." He mumbled a sigh and asked the youth behind the counter he was ready to order.

After ordering, Matthew checked his watch again, five minutes have passed since he last checked. He was beginning to worry about his Germ--Prussian companion-- he couldn't have lost his way to the bar, considering he was the one who invited the Canadian in the first place. It was also the place they often frequented before Gilbert had gone back to Germany.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he debated on whether to call the man or not. The answer was quite obvious the minute his hand reached for the pocket of his suit in order to retrieve his phone. However, a hand clutched the Canadian's shoulder and he, embarrassingly, yelped before turning around to come faced-to-face with the breathless, sweaty face of the albino man, "G-Gil?"

"Yeah, Bir-" He wheezed, "Birdie! It's me," the albino clutched the other's shoulder tightly as he almost lost his balance.

Matthew stared at the older man in horror,"Oh God-- are you alright?" He stood and helped the other ungracefully flop on the bar's chair next to his. He rubbed the man's back as he waited for his breathing to return to normal before speaking, "What the hell happened? Did you run all the way here?"

"Of... course," He coughed involuntarily but managed to sit up and straighter and ignored the glances the workers behind the bar shot him. He also managed to smile at the Canadian.

In return, the Canadian rolled his eyes at his red-eyed companion, "Geez, you're an idiot Gilbert. If you were late you could have just called."

"And make meine Birdie think I stood him up on our date? The awesome me does not do that sort of un-awesome thing!" Gilbert stated, too loudly for Matthew's taste.

Matthew blushed, "Th-This is not a date! I'm a married man!" He practically hollered as his face turned a submissive shade of scarlet; something he had not experienced since his mid-twenties. The submissive part that is.

Gilbert stared, bewildered, at the normally quiet and sweet man's outburst. His red eyes still stared even after the youth brought Matthew's food and scampered away from the seemingly awkward atmosphere. The Prussian remained quiet until he couldn't hold his amusement in any longer and that was how he started laughing his familiar trademark laughter, " Kesesesesese. Oh gosh, Birdie! That was priceless! Hilarious! Kesese!"

Matthew, humiliated more than ever, turned his red face away from the Prussian and began eating his enormous (for regular people) plate of sandwiches. Shoving them one-at-a-time in his mouth, cursing his friend that was now pounding the counter with his fist. Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot!

Ten minutes later, Gilbert had finally finished Kesese-ing and had moved on to wiping the tears in his eyes. Matthew still ignored him as he shoved another sandwich in his mouth, "Well, that was surely something, I tell ya. I come here, expecting to rekindle my friendship with the same adorably, meek boy from twelve-fifteen years ago. But nope! I'm greeted by some headstrong man! Kesesese." He snickered and turned to face the Canadian who was also facing him. A smile graced the albino's lips, "You've changed."

Involuntarily, the Canadian blushed again and, by old habit, looked at the ground as Gilbert reached to pat his head, minding the curl in his hair, "You got taller, huh?" Matthew meekly nodded, he had grown since last seeing the albino and it was obvious that he was taller than his friend and that his boyish face had grown sharper, with age.

The albino glanced at the younger man's plate, "But, I'm glad to see some things haven't changed about you, like your diet." He meant for it to be a compliment, but from the crest-fallen look on Matthew's face it looked like he didn't take it that way at all. Gilbert's eyebrows furrowed as he placed a hand on his companion's back, "What's the matter, Birdie?"

Matthew refused to look at his friend at the moment. Unsure, if he should really go through with what he'd planned. Sure, he was excited about seeing a good friend after so many years because who wouldn't? However, he had also come with the intention of sharing his worries with Gilbert, the one person who gave him advice on almost anything when they worked together. The only problem was where to begin?

One look at his companion's face, and Gilbert knew that the Canadian has something he wanted to talk about, so being the awesome person he was, he waited for him to speak. It was only when the Prussian saw Matthew's expression morph into a troubled face that screamed, "I don't know what to do," Gilbert decided to be the one to break the tension.

"You know... After I transferred back to Germany, I reconnected with miene younger brother. It was probably... ten years since I last seen him? Close to there, I think. I hadn't really stayed in touch with my family since coming to America. What can I say? I was intrigued by the whole, "living your own life," shit over here. Sadly, it was only after I came to my parents' house that had him, my parents, and his fiance inside, I was greeted with a punch on the jaw and then several hugs." He stared at the bottles of alcohol aligned on the cabinets of the bar until they rested on a Hefeweizen. He ushered the bartender to pour him a glass.

"I'll be honest, I was an ass when I was younger and remained that way through adulthood, but it didn't really sink in until the moment I had my family sobbing, thanking the lord I wasn't dead. To make this long story short. I regretted my decision, promised to never do it again, rekindled an old friendship, and attended my little brother's wedding; as his best man might I add." He took a long gulp of his beer, " There is no moral to my story and I don't know if you're going through this, I doubt you are, but I'm just going to say that you can say whatever you want. It's not rocket science, see? I said what I wanted and didn't even shed a tear." He took another drink of his beer, "So, tell old Gil what's on your mind, Matt?"

Matthew had inclined himself a little closer to Gilbert, but didn't fully face the man. He had listened to his story, and a way it made the Canadian feel like he was a lesser man yet again. Just as his wife's cousin-in-law described him to be. Growing a pair, he turned to face his friend fully, plate of food forgotten, and began to explain what had happened in the past few years: his encounter with Isabella, his meeting with her family, his marriage, etc. Everything, until he arrived at the crucial part of the conversation, "When I went back up to our room, I heard her talking to someone on the phone. I didn't want to be rude and disturb her, so I waited until she was finished, but..." He wasn't sure how to phrase his actions.

"Let me guess. You were eavesdropping?"

"I-It was unintentional!" Matthew protested, The Prussian just rolled his eyes, "Anyway, I heard her call out 'Thai' and I couldn't help but peek into the room. She was stuttering and blushing and the minute she said she was going to hang up. Isabella looked..."

"Looked? Don't leave me hanging now, Birdie! What happened?" Gilbert, a little too into the conversation, urged the Canadian to go on.

He looked at the wooden counter again and whispered, ".... Desolate..."

The essence of mindless chatter resounded throughout the bar as did the clinking of the occasional mock toasts and smell of German beer from Gilbert's glass. Their silence felt long, neither knowing what else to say, but in truth it was brief as the albino checked with a sideways glance at his companion's wristwatch. He gulped another mouth full of his beer, ushered the bartender for another, and coughed, "I'm guessing her explanation sounded fake then, huh?"

The Canadian flinched before turning his head and blinking once, twice, "...Eh?"

"What did she say? You guys fought over it, right?"

His mouth opened then closed. Opened. Closed. Opened. Closed, "Eh?"

Gilbert face palmed, "Matt, you have to talk things out in a relationship. You can't just assume the worst! We're not in some fucking cheesy drama! This is reality!"

"Er... I," Well, this is mind blowing.

" Birdie, I know you're the kind-silent type, but come on," Gilbert tousled his white hair in a mature fashion, Matthew noted, "How did it make you feel? Listening to her conversation with that 'Thai' character?"

"... Honestly?" The Canadian said in a sheepish voice.

"Ja." The albino took a sip of his new glass of beer, getting ready for the waterworks the younger man was sure to let go.

"Honestly... I felt furious. I wanted to take the phone from her and break it, but not before I yelled a thing or two to that motherfucker. Then I wanted to yell at Isabella, demand why she was talking to him. If she didn't tell me or wasn't honest, then I would make her say it, by reminding her who she's married to..." He let it drop there but from his tone, face, and words it looked as if the Canadian had turned into someone else.

His violet-blue eyes looked back to the now-gaping Prussian, "Woah... Birdie... Screw your wife's family! That was a real man talking! Incompetent my ass!"

"Y-You really think so?" Matthew, back to being Matthew, shyly stuttered at his praise.

"Heck yea! But we're not here to worry about that. We're here to talk about you and your wife! And I now how to help you in that area!" He smirked, over-confidence practically pouring out from his pores.

"How?" The Canadian asked, more than eager to know how to go about this.

The Albino was pleased by his eagerness, "First-things-first, how's your sex life?"

"Eh?"

~

" And this one was taken on Halloween a few years back," Isabella pointed to a certain picture in the photo album she brought. The Mexican was delighted when she read Elizabeta's unexpected letter/invitation and even more when it said she was going to be living in the neighborhood, right next door! The two had squealed and hugged nonstop since being reunited and Elizabeta had been insistent that Isabella tell her about her life first.

"It was like the two of you vanished without a trace, right after your own wedding!" The Hungarian woman had said, "Then you guys magically reappear with a cute kid at Feli's wedding and Poof! You're gone again!"

"We chatted on Facebook." Isabella reminded her long time friend.

"But it isn't the same!"

Isabella was still reluctant on talking first, but Elizabeta got her by reminding her dear friend that she never invited, much less mentioned, the fact that she was going to remarry, "You really hurt me." She pretended to look like she was the verge of tears making Isabella give in.

Thus, to their current conversation on her sons, Arthur and Alfred, during Halloween in their younger years, "It was Arthur's turn to choose their Halloween theme and wanted them to go as characters from Robin Hood. Alfred was Robin Hood while Arthur chose to be the good king," Elizabeta commented that it was a cute idea, "It was. However, Alfred had thrown a tantrum about wanting to dress up as a hero like last year. And when he asked why, Matthew and I tried to explain to him it was Arthur's turn to choose the theme this year, but he wouldn't listen and began sobbing. Sofia was panicking while her little brother and cousin were trying to calm her down," Isabella chuckled, " It wasn't until Arthur had gone up and whispered something in Sofia's ear. Sofia nodded and she took Arthur upstairs with her, according to Ivan, her little brother. When they came back, Arthur was no longer wearing his kingly robe or crown, but a pink dress, that belonged to her little cousin Natalia, and veil. He also had make up on, I swear. Anyway, when Arthur came down, dressed like a princess, he went up to Alfred, who was being carried by Matthew, and said, 'You have a maiden to protect now. So you're a real hero. See?' And he went with it."

The women cooed over how adorable the maiden Brit and hero American looked in the picture, both holding hands while smiling ear to ear with their bags full of candy. However, Elizabeta noticed something odd about the way the Mexican looked at the photographs from time to time, as if searching for something she was sure was there.

"I can't wait to see Arthur again!" The Hungarian woman said as she clasped her hands in cheer, "I'm sure he's grown to be a wonderful man!"

"Depends on what your definition of a "wonderful man" is, Eliza," Isabella teased her friend, using the nickname she (was forced) used in her high school and college days.

Elizabeta pouted and crossed her arms, "Bella! My mind isn't always in the gutter, you know!" She held in a giggle.

"Really? A famous boyxboy mangaka like yourself? I wonder why I would ever doubt you." She dodged a pillow thrown her way and snickered making Elizabeta snicker as well. Daintily, she picked up her neatly placed teacup her friend had served and drank the familiar taste of peppermint. The Hungarian's favorite flavor.

Elizabeta placed her own empty cup back on the coffee table. She was impressed how the movers had set up her new home and managed to not break anything in the process. It was lovely, seeing her belongings in all the right places, feeling like she hadn't moved from Germany at all. It was homey and very much like walking down memory when seeing her old friend again. Her old friend that time had been generous with, physically. The only thing to do now was to see how much of Isabella had remained Isabella on the inside.

With a smile on her plush lips, flower hair clip forever adorning her hair, the brunette asked, "How's your sex life?" All, while causing her Mexican friend to choke on her tea.

"Se-sex life?!" Isabella continued to cough and hack, "I-Isn't that a little personnel?"

"This coming from the girl who was very open about her relationships with men and women? Headstrong and brash to a fault? It's true what they say that having a child changes a person. I hope you've been honest to Arthur and your husband." She shook her head in disapproval. Just where had her audacious, brutally honest, friend gone?

Isabella blushed, "I-I won't argue with the "having a child" thing, but I've already told Matthew and Arthur about my past relationships!" She set the cup down of the table, only spilling a drop.

The Hungarian cocked an eyebrow, "All?"

The Mexican opened her mouth, but just as quickly to shut it. In a way, she had hoped the subject wouldn't have come up, but knowing that her friend worked at a similar company run by the same family, it was next to impossible for her to not hear anything from one of the Wangs, more particularly Yao.

"Isabella, you can tell me."

She inhaled, "... Thai... He called earlier this week."

"... Did he say anything?"

"No, just that Arthur and I wouldn't be able to go to England this month... The house was flooded." She let out a dry chuckle.

"Anything else?"

Isabella gulped,"... That he would always be there for me."

Slowly, the Hungarian woman began to recall each and every memory regarding the bespectacled man. How Isabella described him the first time she met Kiku's extended family. His odd fascination with elephants and interest in veterinary science. The awkward way he tried to approach others (elephant trinkets). A rare smile, laugh, and jealous boyfriend (Kiku). Their blossoming friendship. A growing attraction. Until finally, they reached a devastating confession, ruining a good relationship. She could still remember the painful phone call she received, at night, with a sobbing Isabella on the other end, telling her she didn't know what to do.

Now, it was Elizabeta's turn to inhale, "... You didn't do anything wrong, Isabella. You rejected him. It was his choice to continue pursuing you."

She didn't say anything.

"Tell me, then. In your mind, who was the one telling you those words?"

Isabella's eyes widened, but she shook her head, refusing to acknowledge the point Elizabeta had, "No, no..."

"It wasn't Thai was it?"

"No, it wasn't but I can't!"

"Why can't you?"

"Because it's not possible!"

"How is it not possible?"

"He's not here!"

"And? That doesn't mean-"

"I love someone else! I'm married again!" It wasn't her intention to yell, but she didn't want to cry either.

For the longest time, her friend, stayed silent, the longest Isabella had ever known the Hungarian to be. However, she was afraid of what she was going to say next. But as unpredictable and obstinate Elizabeta could be, she would not over-step her boundaries... right?

"You remember, " The older woman began, "Roderich, I'm sure," Isabella gave a curt nod as she thought of the stuck-up, yet appealing Austrian man that was Elizabeta's sweetheart throughout high school and eventually husband, " I loved him very much and I still do, even though we divorced."

The Mexican was unfazed by the news, after all she heard it first hand from Facebook, "Why did you guys divorce again?"

"It was because we loved our jobs more than each other. Roderich was invited to join a world re-known orchestra in Russia and my works were just beginning to gain popularity. However, neither of us wanted to give up our career for the other. So in the end we divorced without any drama. Now, unto something you don't know. I also got remarried." The Hungarian smiled and showed her a silver band around her ring finger.

"You did? Why? To Who?" Isabella gaped at the silver ring.

"Yes, I did. He was my friend growing up, a childhood friend you could call him. Our families were quite close and even expected us to get married. I suppose it did come true as I am married to him now. As for your why? It's because I love him!" A pretty blush grew on the woman's face and her green eyes turned tender when speaking about the man she was currently married to.

"B-But... D-Don't you love Roderich?"

"I do love him, but I also love my current husband?"

"Won't they... loathe you for loving someone else too?" Her voice cracked on her own words.

"No, they don't. I even invited Roderich to the wedding and he was happy for me."

"B... But," that isn't right.

Elizabeta sighed, "Isabella do you love, Matthew?"

Isabella didn't even blink, "Yes."

"How much?"

"... A lot."

"And does he love you?"

But what the Hungarian was expecting, an answer much like the one she received before, was not a meek answer like the one the Mexican gave her, "I... I'm not sure..."

"Why is that?"

Isabella scowled, "His new... Editor."

"How old and what does she look like?"

"Early twenties and picture a Victoria Secrets model with red hair."

Elizabeta grimaced understanding her friend oh-so-well, "Do you think he cheated on you with her?" Honestly, she doubted the man was capable of a such thing. Well, from what Isabella told her she assumed.

"Not that I am aware of... but it's obvious she's interested in him... I mean, who wouldn't with someone like her?"

Elizabeta shook her head; partly because she was disagreeing with her friend and the other for Isabella developing, evolving into such a feeble character after all these years. This only prompted the Hungarian's ego that she had made the right choice in moving here with her husband; clearly she was needed in more ways than one by her friend, "Listen up, Isabella! I'm not sure what happened to make you this way, but I fucking know this is not the Bella I knew! I was going to tell you this later, but Matthew has been invited to attend an exclusive party because of his current fame, but he, and I'm sure that brat, has no idea yet! So, this is what you're going to do! You're going to attend that party with him as HIS beautiful wife!"

"But-"

"No, 'buts'! You're going! And you're both going to confirm your love for one another!" Her accent got thicker with every word, " Which brings us back to our previous conversation."

"And that is?"

Eliza grinned, "Your sex life!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Thank you for inviting me over, Eliza," Isabella hugged the Hungarian woman tightly," It's great to see you after such a long time."

"I feel the same," Elizabeta returned the hug and smiled before pulling away,"don't be a stranger and come visit again soon!"

"I will," with a final smile and one last goodbye, Isabella trailed back home.

After seeing her friend round the corner to her house, Elizabeta let out a repressed sigh. She leaned back on the ebony frame of the opened door and crossed her slender arms delicately over her chest," In the end, you didn't answer either of my questions today, Isabella."

The Hungarian woman's eyes stared straight above the house across from hers, taking notice of a bigger bird chasing after a smaller bird.

Closing her eyes from the scene, it took a few moments for the bright green orbs to become visible. Then she smiled as she came to a decision," It looks like I'll have to be the one to watch over that family very closely."

With a twirl she went back inside and closed the door.

 


	11. We're number one, right?

Alfred actually really liked high school. Despite all the bad things that half the student population say publicly about the food, people, and dumb-ass teachers (their words not his) he's had a good year and two months in the Academy. But he will admit, the only downside anyone had for going to school is the HUGE probability they had of clashing with people he did not like.

"Go away, Francis." Alfred literally spat at the ground. His mouth-guard hung from the string connecting to the helmet he just took off, sadly he was still subjected to wear the pads.

"Aw, and here I had a proposition to offer you!" The Frenchman smiled, confident as always.

The American grimaced, a tint of red slowly made its way up the back of his neck. He noted, once he got as close as he possibly could to the fence, how lucky the Frenchman was for being on the other side, securely protected from the American's wrath, "If it has anything to do with my brother and I," Arthur would be so proud of him for using correct grammar,"you can go suck a dick."

Alfred turned to go to the locker room but stopped when he heard Francis mutter under his breath, "I'm sure you'd want Arthur to do that for you."

He abruptly turned, sweat trickling down his brow and nostrils flaring, fuming with anger while startling Francis in the process, "Look shitty-beard, I don't know why you're so hung over tha--that disgusting notion of yours," there was no way Alfred was going to repeat yesterday words out in the open, "but just fucking quit it! I've known you long enough to know that you only ever have your best interest in mind whenever you're scheming something. My relationship with my brother is perfectly normal and fine. So do me a favor and stay the hell away from me and Arthur!"

Alfred finished and he was feeling pretty good for telling Francis off, powerful too. Hopefully, the Frenchie will finally get the message and stop whatever he was about to start with the brothers. And he would continue to feel that way until Francis threw his hand bag near the American's face. The sound of the wire hitting the pole startled the America awake from his moment of dominance.

"Your brother and you, your brother and you, YOUR BROTHER AND YOU! I've just about had it with this-- whatever this thing is between you and your brother! For ten years, I tolerated the infantile pranks you constantly, without a day's break, pulled on me whenever I was in a three-foot radius of Arthur! You ruined our projects, our time together, and not to mention MY HAIR! All because you didn't have the intellectual capability to understand that you were going through a phase, really early in your life!" Francis heaved, sweat had accumulated on his forehead and he felt himself grow very warm as he let out years and years of pent-up frustration on the poor American teen who had nothing to say at the moment.

"I swear to God, I am doing this so Arthur and you, Alfred, can have some peace of mind and I can have some peace from your constant bullying! But it looks like you can't see through my good intentions, so how about you do me a favor and fucking understand that it won't always be Arthur and you before it's too late!"

Francis huffed, picked up his bag, and stomped away, all-the-while patting himself on the back for pulling-off such a great performance. Sadly, his celebration was short-lived once he saw Arthur coming their way, sprinting might he add.

"Sorry," he wheezed," I'm late, Alfred. The student council wa-- what are you doing here?" The Brit stood straighter upon seeing the Frenchman, both held a similar expression of perplexity at the others presence. Clearly, they weren't expecting to see each other.

It did not go unnoticed by the American who trailed his eyes to look at the Frenchman's clothes, Now that he mention's it, how did Francy manage to get into the school while wearing regular clothes?

"No mon ami, I should be asking why--Augh!"

Arthur landed a swift kick to his gut and a couple more as he yelled, "You're doing something to him again, aren't you!"

Only Francis was hurt in the making of this chapter.

~

Luckily, Alfred was able to keep his mind off of anything and everything for the next thirteen days. Reason: The Homecoming Game.

It was the perfect distraction for anything, it almost caused Alfred to go to morning practice hungry a couple of time (thankfully, Arthur would remind him or had already bought something for him from McD's). He had also been Oblivious to the strange tension between his brother and mother.

Especially when he came home with Arthur the first day, the day Francis yelled at him, and his brother and sister-in-law had shared odd looks and nervous laughs. Of course, Arthur being the smart Brit he is, and constantly reading those Sherlock Holmes stories, knew right away that something was up but he didn't discuss it with Alfred. Most likely because he didn't want his little brother to lose focus on his big game and Alfred was thankful for that.

However, all good things must come to an end, and they did without warning the morning of the game. At least, to the American they came without warning.

"What do you mean you won't be able to stay for the whole game!?" Alfred wailed to his finely groomed brother and sister.

Isabella, who was currently fixing her husbands tie, explained it to her American son once again, "Alfred, we've discussed this the week before, Matthew and I have a very important event to attend to for your brother and my extended family."

"But that doesn't mean you can't be a little late to the party!"

"Alfred," Arthur warned as he came from upstairs wearing his school uniform, "if mom and dad could be a 'little late' to their social gathering then they wouldn't be telling you otherwise. But as you can hear, this is important to both of them, so stop acting like such a baby."

"I'm not acting like baby," Alfred protested.

Arthur rolled his eyes," Yeah, sure."

"I'm not, I still haven't complained about you not being there yet."

"Key word 'yet' meaning you will as soon as I'm done with this sentence."

"Why aren't you coming to my game!"

"See?" Arthur turned to his parent's who suppressed their giggles at their eldest son tormenting the younger boy.

"I already told you, I have a meeting with the school board that can't be missed." Alfred frowned, did his brother really not care that he made school history for becoming on of the only two sophmores to make it to not only varsity but get a good position on a state-ranked team?! Did Arthur not care?!

"Can't you convince the old guys to postpone it for another day?"

"No, I can't."

"Then how come Michelle and Amelia get to go to the game?!" Honestly, Alfred didn't understand why stupid Amelia and Seychelles could miss out on the meeting but not the kicker's own brother.

"Because, Alfred, they are part of the team."

"The cheerleading team!"

"Alfred," the boy cringed once he heard his mother's unusual stern voice from behind him,"Be nice."

"Ye-"

"En Español!" (She found out about his C in Spanish)

"Si, mama, lo siento. (Yes, mom, I'm sorry)." At least Alfred knew that now was not the time to goof around.

Matthew and Arthur made sure to steer clear from commenting or else they too would suffer the wrath of their stern Mexican.

~

"Why are you pouting for now?" Ivan asked as he looked at his friend who was currently puffing his cheeks while doing stretches. After the home and opponent teams had been announced by the speakers, Alfred had still held on to some foolish hope that Arthur would be there.

Yes, he was upset that his parents weren't going to be there, but he was a big boy now. He knew that they had obligation to honor in order for the family to have food on the table (and most importantly his stomach). However, Alfred had been more upset that the fact that his brother, his only big brother who would graduate after this year, would not be there and see his little brother make Academy sport history! Something he had trained his ass-off for, just so Arthur could watch him play before he left the Academy for good!

"Nothing," the American boy grumbled as he took one last peek towards the stance where his brother, mother, and Arthur would usually stand to cheer for him. It was weird to see them filled with men, women, and teens he did not know.

"Jones! Braginsky! Stop yapping and get in there!" The coach demanded once the other two players jogged their way towards the assembly line of Junior/Senior football players where they were greeted by a paper cup full of water.

The Russian and the American jogged to their huddled team and like every game since making the team, heard the pep talk from their Senior Captain, "Now listen up girls," Sadiq, a Turkish Senior that had become the football team's captain (heaven only knows how, though), started the traditional before game pep talk, "I'm not going to get sentimental or any shit-angry like our previous oppressors crashed into. No, I'm only going to say, and I'm talking about the people who got out early from their jobs, cancelled all their dates, and opened up their schedules just to watch some measly high school football game, that we have to go out there and WIN!" He cracked, "Fuck, you all have to do your absolute best and fucking win this game for all of us! Do you hear me?!" He blubbered, not caring that he had a troupe of 10 other guys gawking at him.

"I thought you said that you wouldn't get all sentimental or shit like the previous Seniors?" The vice captain, a young man from Bulgaria also graduating this year, handed the grown Turkish man a towel he prepared for this very occasion.

"Sh-Shut up!"

The cheerleader began to chant their signature chant, "We're number one! We're number one!" And so the game began.

~(If you feel you can write up a great and intense football scene for this chapter (because I suck at sports scenes) go ahead and message me your ideas! :) Thank you!)~

"Alfred! Alfred!" The cheerleaders cheered even as the football player left the court to rest up before he was out and about again.

Truth be told, Alfred was having a major ego boost from the chant they made specifically for him (at least they cared enough to be there for him), "Hey, Ivan," the American boldly called out to his Russian team member, "what do you think of the chant created specifically for me." He smirked.

"I think, Natalya is just about ready to choke you with her pom-poms if you don't turn around and look at who she is pointing at."

Taking the Russian's advice about his relative, Alfred turned and bolted from his seat when he noticed the three people he wanted more than anything to be there for him, standing near the fence looking at him with huge grins on their faces while cheering.

"Art-" He was about to cry when the voice of the Turkish Senior called out to him to 'kick the Goddamn ball.'

"Go, Alfred!"

"You can do it, Al!"

"Get it over and don't mess up, wanker!" His family cheered, loud, proud, and not caring who heard them yell at their little American boy.

I won't mess up. I won't mess up. Alfred repeated over and over in his mind as he positioned himself for the kick-off. I won't mess up. He glanced back at the stands where he saw the green-eyed, blond British man mouth the words 'we're number one, Alfred' and letting out an easy smile.

With a broad grin that everyone could see, the American kicker for W. A. Academy charged and kicked. Silence rang for a long 20 seconds. Then hollers erupted.

~

After the game, Alfred did not go and thank the other team for a great game as common courtesy. Instead, the minute the game finished an outstanding 15 point lead, the American ran past the water-boys setting up to dunk the liquid on their coach, through the mixed crowds of cheerleader and fans until he was less-than 7 feet from his family.

"I thought you guys weren't going to make it?" He slightly puffed from exhaustion.

Isabella looked at her husband who smiled with the same care, "We thought about it at first but..."

"...what's wrong with being a few minutes late."

Then he turned to the Brit, "And I thought you had a meeting with the old geezers or whatever."

"School board," Arthur corrected as a small red hue crept up his ears, and only his ears, "A-And there was a discussion before hand if we should hold it for another time--wh-which I firmly declined! Seeing as we could have gotten the work done, if onl-- What the bloody heck are you doing!"

Arthur, being mindful of his mother's presence, did not cuss as he was boorishly picked up from the ground and carried high as the eyes could see from every man, woman, and child present. Alfred was overjoyed realizing that Arthur had fought for the right to be there and watch an insignificant, unimportant high school football game instead of doing something he should have been accomplishing. It made his heart swell and beat.

He was so happy, that the American ignored his brother's protests to put him down and cheekily asked, "Whose number one, Artie?"

The British national's eyes dilated and rolled, but he nonetheless answered his cheeky younger brother with a sigh, "We're number one, idiot."

 


	12. Character List

This will be more for me than you guys! (I added some more details to this but not a lot; spoilers may be here) :)

Individuals

Alfred F. Jones: 5'10'' 3/4 (almost 11''); 16-year-old bispectacled boy; Sophmore; sandy-blonde, with a strange piece of hair sticking from the front of his hair/bangs (referred to as a cowlick); blue eyes; described as a glutton, energetic, messy, tan, clever, stubborn, and loveable, but scary when he gets mad.

Alfred is the biological little brother of Matthew Williams, and the little stepbrother of Arthur Kirkland. He is also the stepson of Isabella Cortez, Matthew's wife, hence he sees Matthew as more of a Father figure than a brother. He never really met his biological parents because they died in a plane accident when he was only a toddler, but he knows that from the stories and pictures Mattie shows him, he resembles his father and mother. He's also very attached to Arthur, and has been that way since they were little; however, his love for his brother has been seen to be teetering on the border between Storge and Agape (if not Eros)

He is a high school student at W.A. and is said to be the perfect representation of an All-American High School-er because of his loud attitude, physique, social ability, and athleticism. However, he seems to have an immense dislike towards Amelia and only tolerates Francis.

Arthur J. Kirkland: 5'7" 3/4; 17-year-old boy; Senior; wheat-haired boy, with large, prominent eyebrows; green eyes; described as stuck-up, short-tempered, cold (only to the students of the school), overly affectionate (towards Alfred), smart, gentlemanly, feminine (by his family) and strange.

Arthur is the adopted son of Isabella Williams (formerly Honda), Kiku Honda, and Matthew Williams as well as the older stepbrother of Alfred. Although he is the adopted son of Kiku, he did not receive the last name of Honda, or Williams from Matthew, and that leaves him insecure at times. Still, he really loves Isabella and Kiku to the point where he said he would marry both of them when he was younger. He was also excited to hear that his adopted parents were planning on giving him a younger sibling once Kiku returned from a business trip; however, he will never get one after Kiku dies in a plane crash. That could explain why he babies Alfred, though he still adores him. At one point he was against the wedding between Isabella and Matthew, but had accepted it soon after and he loves Matthew like a son.

His best friends are Francis (reluctantly admits) and Kouki. He dislikes Ashling and he cares for Amelia. He is also described as being the perfect representation of a proud but mannerly British national.

Matthew Jones-Williams: 6'2"; Canadian: Wavy, blond shoulder-length hair with a strange curl sticking out; Blue-violet eyes; somewhat lighter skin; Use to be a hockey player in school; described as being shy, hardworking, incompetent (by Yao), sweet, beast, handsome, level-headed, and fatherly.

Matthew is Alfred's biological brother, Arthur's step-father, and Isabella's current husband. He was born in Canada; his mother conceived him while crossing the border to visit her parents. Having faced many hardships like losing his parents when he was still in university, raising his younger brother (with some help from his grandparents), almost losing the love of his life, and being told he is weak; have caused him to have an overly nervous, yet a (secretly) contradicting alpha male personality whenever his loved one's are involved in something. He has been holding on to a secret that could shatter his current family.

He's best friends with Gilbert and often takes his advice, no matter how bad.

Isabella William-Cortez (Isabella Honda-Cortez): 5'6" (when not wearing shoes); Mexican; Long, curly dark-brown hair; Brown eyes; Tan skin; Use to be a player; described as being kind, outgoing, childish, mild-mannered, dedicated, a player, sad, lovable, pretty, and motherly.

Isabella is Matthew's wife, Alfred's sister-in-law (technically), and Arthur's adopted mother. Despite being labeled as a "player,"; she's a very dedicated person to not only her friends but studies. Since the death of her husband and remarriage, Isabella has been very hesitant about things. Worries about her family and is still finding it hard to let go of her previous marriage.

Kiku Honda: Japanese man and Isabella's deceased husband.

Kouki: Arthur's close friend; a Japanese boy who is in charge of the Photography club. Is quite the mysterious individual who treats Arthur in a parental fashion if you think about it.

Francis Bonnefoy: French man the same age as Arthur and his best friend; his mom is a fashion designer; cares for Arthur as a friend.

Amelia Jonas: Junior that goes to the same school as Alfred and Arthur; Is a very attractive girl and very active in both cheer leading and the student council; likes to make Alfred jealous but really likes Arthur.

Elizabeta Hedervary: Isabella's best friend in school; Hungarian woman who was married to her high school sweetheart until recently; Is a manga author.

Gilbert Beilschmidt: Self proclaimed "Prussian" that worked at the same company as Matthew before he transferred; had an attraction towards Matthew and is the older brother of Ludwig despite him looking younger.

Ashling K. Donald: Matthew's editor; a young, gorgeous woman in her early twenties that is attracted to Matthew.

Yao Wang: Isabella's (ex) cousin-in-law and Kiku's eldest cousin; Chinese national that appears sweet yet strict; doesn't like Matthew; is protective of Arthur and Isabella; is the main person in charge of the family business; he is married to a Russian woman and has a child.

Thai: Thailand national; is one of the many people in charge of Wang-Ho while also being a part-time vet's assistant; was close to Kiku at one point; is fond of Arthur.

Joan Archer: School's nurse and of French lineage; Pessimistic and mature adult; Francis' first love.

Michelle: Student council member and cheerleader; dislikes the president for being mean all the time; cute student in the same grade as Alfred and may have a crush on him.

Ivan Braginsky: "Cweepy kid"; Football player; Alfred's close friend; thinks Arthur and Alfred are strange brothers; is afraid of his cousin?

Natalia Braginsky: Cheerleader (only to see her cousin play football); is extremely pretty according to all the guys but is found to be creepy because of her obsession for her cousin's affection.

Families

Jones-William Family

Wang-Honda Family

Braginsky Family

Foster Family

Honda-Cortez-Kirkland Family

To be added

Feliciano Beilschmidt (Vargas): Italian and is in charge of advertising for a Wang-Ho company in Europe; is married to Ludwig.

Ludwig Beilschmidt: German that works for sales in a Wang-Ho company in Europe; is married to Feliciano.

Alice Clarksland: 19-year-old British national and Amelia's cousin.

Elizabeth Boleyn: 18-year-old British national.

Nekotalia

 


	13. Extra Chapter: I've always wanted to be your prince, you know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a sneak-peek to things to come for the female version of our favorite pair!

A sneak peek into the lives of female version of our favorite pair. I must warn that this does contain spoilers!!

"What is the meaning of this?! What are you scheming?!"

"I'm-"

SLAP!

"No! I want the truth, Amelia!"

But it is. The tall blonde looked at the smaller with unyielding fascination. There were no tears welling up in her eyes to obstruct her image of the older girl. Small body, flushed cheeks, and emeralds eyes pooling water on already thick lashes. How pretty. yet, her gaze stayed as pertinacious as it always has. She's always been beautiful.

"Amelia, this is your cousin, Alice. She's six, two years older than you. We hope you'll both get along!" They did in an instant. Both were the only children of two couples. Amelia's always wanted a big sister. She was also pretty, bonus!

"Do you want to go to my room? We can..."

"You want to sleep with me? I'll read you a bedtime story!"

"Mum, Dad, Auntie, Uncle! Can we go see to the castle? Amelia's never seen one!"

"We're so dirty! Let's go wash up!"

"She didn't know, mum! She's still little!"

"Let's go play in the rain!"

"Daddy, can you help us build a castle? Amelia wants to make a really big one!

"You're still hungry? You can have my share!"

Then it happened, on her third summer stay in England. Alice was on the last pages of the princess book she'd been reading out-loud, Amelia starting to doze off.

Crash!

"You tried to kill me!"

"Don't be daft, Robert! I would never-"

"You tried to throw the vase-"

"I knocked it on accident!"

Fights in the house were not foreign. On the contrary, Amelia had grown quite accustomed to the verbal lashes between Alice's parents over the years. They were the reason as to why the Jonas family had come to England in the first place. To somehow, hopefully, mend the relationship between the two in order to stray from any social upheaval between the Kay and Clarksland families.

"God you're such an idiot! I never should have married you!"

"The feelings mutual!"

Alice never was and she never would be used to the verbal fights. Almost everyday of her life since becoming aware of what was considered "wrong" and what was "right" she'd listen. Their shouts carrying through the large expanse of their house, the garden included. She was never out of ear-shot and could never block them out either, not even her imaginary friends helped. Of course, her parents didn't know.

"Never should have had a child with..."

Her cousin was shaking. Amelia could feel the legs of the lap she was resting on and her voice as she read "the best part of the entire story" was a dead give away," A-And," hiccup," they," sniffle," lived... ha-happily... ever... Af-mmm."

Amelia stood and stared. She didn't wear glasses then, her eyes were just as big, her hair always in two gold pig-tails tied in bows, fair skinned, and always in a dress. Like the princesses in her books. Only now a weeping princess.

Alice instinctively hugged her knees, her dress flowed to the sides like water, it was a blue dress, her favorite color. She looked so small, smaller than six-year old Amelia and very tiny.

"You-you know," the crying girl said after a while,"I-I've always wanted t-to be a pr-princess like the ones in m-my books!"

She rubbed her eyes with tiny fists,"Wa-Waiting for my prince to come rescue me from my princess room and t-take me away to have a happily ever after! T-Together forever in a bigger castle with a lot of flower, a-and horses, a-and treasure, a-and parties were we could invite all of our friends!"

"And you can visit us whenever you want. Or we can go visit you! Wouldn't that be great, Amelia?" Through her tears she tried to stay strong. Offering her young-self a small smile and an impossible dream. She nodded anyway and Alice let out a less strained smile, "So I'll keep waiting for him to come! Forever if I have to!"

Her heart fluttered then and the wanting to protect her sweet, lonely cousin had just been planted in her heart.

"Then let's play castle!" Young Amelia cheered and grabbed her cousin by the hand pulling her to the wooden crate in the yard decorated with pink glitter, "You can be the princess trapped in the tower," she pointed to the top,"and I'll be the prince trying to rescue you!"

She giggled, "Okay, Amel- I mean, my prince Amelia!"

Years later, the feelings within her, the ones she kept hidden, grew and grew until they overflowed and she couldn't help but pour them out to the person in question.

"Amelia!"

Her cheek stung.

"Answer me!"

It hurt like a bitch.

"You're not a child anymore! And I swear to the gods, if you don't answer me, I'll-"

But not as much as the pain in her heart.

"Why? Just why would you- why did you- why?!" Alice was crying. It hurt to be the cause of the one you love's pain.

"Because, Alice," despite the sting in her cheek, the stabbing at her heart, she smiled that wide smile of hers,"I've always wanted to be your prince."

But Amelia made her choice and there was no going back. For either of them.

 


End file.
